Weary Eyes
by TheOddChild
Summary: With one body already lying in the morgue, and another being rolled in as we speak Dr. Rachel Berry fears that they may have a serial killer on their hands. When no one listens, she decides to find the truth. Could the next body be hers?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own glee, or the book this story is based on.**

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><p><span>Chapter 1.<span>

An hour before her shift started, an hour before she had to be there, they rolled in the first corpse of the day.

So far this day had been going great for Rachel Berry, better than usual. Her car started on the turn of the first key. Traffic had been sparse on the Telegraph, and she had got all green lights. She was at her office by five to seven, and could relax for the next hour with a large coffee from starbucks and blueberry muffin, while reading today's news. Skipping the obituaries, chances were she already knew about them.

Then a gurney with a black body bag rolled past her office door. _Crap,_ she thought. In about thirty seconds, Will Schuster was going to knock at her office door and ask her for a favour. Sighing, Rachel listened to the wheels of the gurney grind down the hall. She heard the autopsy room doors whisk open and swish shut, and could faintly here the rumble of male voices. She counted down the seconds and as if on cue, the sound of Will's Reeboks squeaking across the linoleum floor.

He appeared in the doorway. "Morning Rach" he mumbled.

She sighed. "Good Morning Will."

"Can you believe it, they just wheeled one it."

"Yeah, how _awful_ of them."

"It's already seven ten," he said. A tone of pleading in his voice. "If you could do me this one favour ..."

"But I'm not here" she said as she wiped the imaginary crumbs off her scrubs. "Until eight-o-clock, I'm nothing more than a figment of your imagination".

"C'mon, I don't have time to process this one. Terri's got the kids packed up and ready to go, and I'm stuck here with another Jane Doe. Have a heart."

"This is the third time this month."

"But I've got a family. They expect me to spend time with them. You're a free agent."

"Right. I'm a divorcee, not a temp."

Will moved further into her office and sat in the chair in front of her desk, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Just this once. Terri and I, we are having problems, you know."_ She rolled her eyes. Of course if anyone knows about marital problems it's me_. "And I want this vacation to start off right. I'll return the favour sometime. I Promise."

Sighing, Rachel tossed her newspaper on her desk and sat up straight. "Okay," She said. "What have you got?"

Will was already peeling off his white lab coat. "Jane Doe. No obvious trauma. Another body fluid special. Chang and Rutherford are with her."

"They bring her in?"

"Yeah. So you'll have a decent report to work off."

Getting out of her seat and walking to the door, Rachel turned "You owe me" before turning and heading towards the autopsy room. Calling out "leave a few trout for the rest of us." Will grinned, saluting her "Into the wilds of Maine I go, see you next week."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel pushed open the heavy door that led into the autopsy room. The body was still contained in the black bag, lay on the slab. Lieutenant Mike Chang and Sergeant Matt Rutherford, veterans of the local knife and gun club, were waiting for her. Chang in his usual suit and tie – an Asian homicide detective who always insisted on mixing corpses with Armani. His partner Matt Rutherford, was dressed in a similar a tie, just not designer, was staring at a specimen jar on the shelf.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked, pointing at the jar. Typical Matt, never afraid of sounding stupid.

"That is the right middle lobe of a lung" Rachel said as if it was no big deal.

"Thought it was a brain" Mike started chuckling to himself. "That is why she is the doctor and you are the cop." He straightened his tie and looked at her "Thought Schuster was taking this one."

Rachel snapped on a pair of latex gloves "Afraid I am".

"Thought you didn't start till eight though?"

"Tell me about it."

"So guys, what's the story with this one."

Matt came forward and opened his notebook. "Caucasian female, no ID, age twenty to thirty. Body found four A.M. this morning, off South Lexington. No apparent trauma, no witnesses, no nothing"

"South Lexington," Said Rachel as she pictured the neighbourhood she knew all too well – the streets, the back alleys and the playgrounds rimmed with barbed wire. Looming above it the seven buildings all grim. "The Projects?" she asked.

"Where else?"

"Who found her?"

"City trash pickup" Said Chang. "She was in an alley between two of the Project buildings, sort of wedged against a dumpster."

"As if she was placed there? Or died there?"

Chang looked at his partner. "You were there first, what d'ya think?"

"Looked to me like she died there. Just lay down, sort of curled up against the dumpster and just called it quits."

It was time, preparing herself for the first glimpse. Rachel reached for the zipper and opened the bag. Mike and Matt both to a step backward, an instinctive reaction. The zipper parted the plastic fell away to reveal the corpse.

It wasn't bad, compared to some of the bodies she'd had to work on. This one was actually in good shape, the women was blonde about twenty five maybe a little bit younger. Her face looked like marble. She was dressed in a pink long sleeved top, a pair of bleached jeans, and a pair of brand new Nikes. Rigor Mortis had frozen her limbs into a vague semblance of the fetal position. She got to work on the examination, taking pictures and removing clothes to exam the body more closely. No trauma that could be the cause of death.

"Nothing definitive, guys," she said. "Sorry."

Mike and Matt looked disappointed, but not surprised.

"We will have to wait for body fluids," she said.

"How long?"

"I'll collect it, get it to the state lab today. But they've been running a few weeks behind."

"Can't you run a few tests here?" asked Mike.

"I'll screen it through gas and TL chromatography but it won't be specific. Definitive drug ID will have to go through state lab."

"All we want to know," said Matt. "Is whether it's possible."

"Homicide is always possible."She continued her external exam starting with the head. No sign of trauma here. The blond hair was tangled and obviously hadn't been washed for days. Examining more she came across a long ridge of scar tissue snaking down it towards the wrist.

"Needle tracks," said Rachel. "And a fresh puncture mark."

"Another junkie," sighed Mike. "There's our cause of death, probable OD."

"We could run a fast analysis on her needle," said Rachel. "Where's her kit?"

Matt shook his head. "Didn't find one."

"She must have had a needle. A syringe."

"I looked," said Matt. "I didn't see any."

"Did you find anything near the body?"

"Nope, no purse, no ID, no nothing."

"Who was first on the scene?"

"Patrol man. Then me?"

"So we have a junkie with fresh needle marks, and no needle."

Mike said, "Maybe she shot up somewhere else and ended up wandering in to the alley and just died."

"Possible."

Matt was staring at the women's hand. "What's that" he said pointing to the bit of cardboard noticeable in the women's clenched fist. Rachel looked sure enough, there was a bit of cardboard peeking out of the clenched fist. It took two of them to pry the fist open. Out slid a matchbook small with raised lettering "Laetrile, fine nouvelle cuisine. 221 Hilton Avenue."

"Kind of out her neighbourhood" Mike remarked.

"Hey, I hear that's a nice place," defended Matt. "Not that I could afford to eat there myself."

Rachel opened the matchbook. Inside were three unused matches and a phone number neatly written on the inside cover. "Think it's a local number?" She asked.

"Prefix would put it in Surry Heights, still out of her neighbourhood." Said Mike.

"Well," Said Rachel. "Let's try it out and see what happens." As Mike and Matt watched her, Rachel walked over to the wall phone and dialled the number. It rang a few times before an answering machine picked up. A deep male voice started talking. "I'm not available at the moment. Please leave your name and number." That was it straight to the point. Rachel said. "This is Dr. Berry at the Albion medical examiner's office. Please call me back in regards to a ... "she paused, unwilling to reveal that he might know the corpse lying a few feet away from her. Instead she said. "Just please call me back." Hanging up she turned back to the two police men. "Well we just have to wait and see who rings back; in the mean time do you want to stick around for the autopsy"

Rachel was sat at her desk later that morning when the phone rang. "Dr. Berry, Assistant ME." She said voice full of sarcasm. "You left me a message." She recognized the voice from the answering machine. She instantly sat a little straighter in her chair. "What's this all about" he demanded.

Rachel reached for a pen and scrap piece of paper. "Who am I speaking to?" she asked.

"You should know. You called _me_."

"I just had your number, not a name-"

"And how did you get my number?"

"It was written on a matchbook. The police brought a woman into the morgue this morning and she-" He cut her off again. "I'll be right there."

"Sir, you didn't give me you n-" she heard the click of the receiver and then the dial tone. _Asshole_, what if he doesn't show up? Or ring back?

She dialled homicide and left a message for Mike and Matt to "get back to the autopsy room." Then she waited.

At noon she got a buzz on the intercom from the desk. "There's a Mr. Puckerman here," Said the secretary. "He says your expecting him. Want me to send him down?"

"I'll meet him up there, I'm on my way" said Rachel. Jumping out of her seat and pulling on her lab coat. She knew better then to bring him down straight away, he would need a chance to prepare for the shock. By the time she had ridden up the basement elevator she made herself look more presentable. Looking through the glass door she could see a man pacing. He was nicely dressed in a suit, and didn't look like he could be acquainted with a Jane Doe from South Lexington. He was tugging at his tie like it was strangling him. Pushing open the glass door she walked towards the man. "Mr Puckerman?"

Quickly the man spun to face her. He had dark hair that was shaved close to his scalp and dark eyes. He looked about in his late twenties. His jaw set in tension.

"I'm Dr. Berry" she said, holding her hand out. He shook it automatically, quickly as to get through the formalities as fast as possible.

"Noah Puckerman," he said. "You left that message on my answering machine."

"Why don't we go down to my office? You can wait there until the police-"

"You said something about a woman," he cut in rudely. "That the police brought in a woman. She decided he wasn't being rude. He was afraid.

"It might be better to wait for Lieutenant Chang," she said. "He can explain the situation."

"Why don't _you_ explain it to me?"

"I'm just the medical examiner, Mr Puckerman. I can't just give out information."

The look he shot her was withering. All at once she wished she stood a little straighter a little taller. That she didn't feel so threatened by his gaze.

"This Lieutenant Chang," he said. "He's from Homicide, right?"

"Yes."

"So this is a murder case?"

"I don't want to speculate."

"Who is she?"

"We don't have an ID yet."

"Then you don't know."

"Nope."

He paused for a moment. "Let me see the body." It was a request but a demand. Rachel glanced to the door hoping Mike and Matt would appear soon. Sighing she looked back to the man seeing he was barely holding himself together_. He is terrified that the body in my refrigerated drawer is someone he knows and loves_. "That's why you called me right, to see if I can identify her?"

Sighing she nodded. "The morgue is downstairs Mr Puckerman, come with me." He walked beside her in silence, his tan skin looking pale beneath the fluorescent lights. He was silent in the elevator to the basement to. Stepping off the elevator he paused taking in the bland walls and linoleum floor. "It's down this hall." Said Rachel.

He wordlessly followed her to the storage room. She stopped at the door and turned to his. "The bodies in here, are you sure you're feeling up to it." He nodded.

She led him inside. The room brightly lit, almost painfully so. Gripping the handle of the door. "It's not going to be pleasant." He swallowed. "Go ahead."

She pulled open the door. It slid out noiselessly, releasing a waft of cold vapour. Rachel looked at Noah to see how he was holding up. Grim and silent. He had paled slightly but hadn't moved. He just stared.

At last he let out a deep breath. He looked across at her. In a calm voice he said. "I've never seen this woman before in my life."

Then he turned and walked out of the room.

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><p>First Chapter. This story should be about 15 chapters all together.<p>

This is my first every story. hope you like it.

Please Review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or the book this story is based on.**

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><p>Chapter 2.<p>

Quickly shutting the door Rachel followed Noah into the hall.

"Wait, Mr Puckerman!"

"I can't help you; I honestly don't know who that girl is."

"But you thought you knew who she was. Didn't you?"

"You don't know what I thought." He was walking towards the elevator, his long legs carrying him at a fast pace.

"Why did she have your phone number then?"

"How should I know, I don't know _who_ she is." He said stressing the facts.

"Well then is it a business number? One that anyone from the public, can get access to?"

"No, it's my home number."

"Then how did she get it."

"Look I told you, I don't know." He reached the elevator, stabbing the UP button. "She is a total stranger."

"But you were afraid that you knew her. That's why you rushed down here."

"I was doing my civic duty." He shot her a look that said, _no more questions_.

Rachel asked anyway. "Who did you think she was, Mr Puckerman?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at her with a blank expression.

"Fine, I want you to sign a statement." She said. "And I will need to know how to reach you. Just incase the police have more questions."

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card. "My home address," he said handing it to her.

She glanced at it. 1031 Long Yard Lane, Surry Heights. Chang had been right about the phone prefix.

"You are going to have to talk to the police." She said.

"Why?"

"Routine questions."

"Is this a homicide investigation or not?"

"I don't know yet."

The elevator doors open. "When you make your mind up, call me."

She slipped into the elevator after him, the doors shut behind her. "Look," she said. "I have a dead body with no name. Now, I could just call her Jane Doe and leave it alone. But somewhere out there is a mother, a sister, or even a wife who is missing and I'd really like to help."

"Fingerprints?"

"I've done that."

"Dental X-rays."

"Done that too."

"Well it sounds like you're capable. You don't need my help." The doors slid open and he stepped out. "It's not as if I don't care." He said, leading her on a brisk chase down the hall, towards the reception area. "But I don't see why I should be dragged into this, just because my number happens to be written in some – some restaurant matchbook. She could have gotten it anywhere. Stolen it-"

"I never told you it was from a restaurant."

He stopped abruptly. "Yes you did."

"No, I didn't. I _know_ I didn't."

He fell silent. There gazes locked, both of them refusing to look away first. _Even a guy as smooth as you are, can slip up_, she thought with a dart satisfaction.

"And I'm sure you're wrong." He said evenly, he turned and went into the reception area.

Mike and Matt were standing at the front desk.

Mike turned to Rachel and said, "We got your message ..." His gaze shifter to the man with her and reacted with surprise. "Mr Puckerman, what brings you down to ..." Suddenly glancing back to Rachel.

"It was his number Mike," said Rachel. "But Mr Puckerman says he doesn't know the women."

"Talk to her Lieutenant," Said Noah. "Maybe you can convince Dr. Berry that I am not some ax murderer."

Mike laughed. "Berry giving you a hard time?"

"Since I can see you two already know each other," said Rachel annoyed. "I'll just take Mr Puckerman's word.

"I'm so relieved." Said Noah sarcastically. "Now if you'll excuse me." He gave a slight nod. "Dr. Berry it's been ... interesting." He turned to leave.

"Excuse me, Puck?" called Mike. "A word, please."

As two men walked to the far corner of the reception area, Rachel caught Noah's glance. It said, _this has nothing to do with you. _

"We'll see you downstairs, Mike," said Matt. Then gave Rachel a nudge. "C'mon you got anymore of that god awful coffee?"

She could take a hint. As she and Matt walked to the elevators, she looked over her shoulder. The men were still in the corner talking in low voices. Noah was facing her, and over the head of a shorter Mike, he caught sight of her backwards glance and returned it with a look of cool acknowledgement. The tension in his face now gone, he was back in full control.

In the elevator she said. "Okay Matt, who is he?"

Matt shrugged. "Owns some pharmaceutical company. Invert or something or other."

"Iveruit? He owns Iveruit Company?"

"Yeah, that's the one. He always in those fancy society pages. You know the whole black tie affair. Surprised you haven't heard of him."

"I don't read the society pages."

"You should. You're ex was mentioned in them the other day. He was at some campaign benefit for the mayor. He had a nice looking blond on his arm."

"That's why I don't read the society pages."

"Oh.

They got out of the elevator and headed to Rachel's office. Walking to the coffee machine, she poured out the liquid into a mug and handed it to Matt.

"And how does Mike know Mr. Society?"

Matt frowned at the coffee in his mug. "Some private thing. Puckerman asked Mike for some police assistance. Something to do with his daughter."

"Puckerman has a daughter?"

"That's what I hear."

"He didn't strike me as the 'daddy' type. Not a guy who'd let sticky little hands all over his Burberry suit."

Matt took a sip of the coffee. "Your coffee's improved."

"What sort of help did Mike give him?"

"Oh, the girl dropped out of his sight or something. You'd have to ask Mike. It happened a while back before we got partnered up."

"Was he working in South Lexington?"

"Worked that strip for years. That's where his partner went down. Drive by. Then I lost mine in Watertown, and Mike got stuck with me. The rest is history."

"Noah Puckerman doesn't look like he lives anywhere near South Lexington."

Matt chuckled. "That's for sure."

"So why did he ask a South Lexington cop for help?"

"I Dunno, why don't you ask Mike?" Matt's cell phone rang. Automatically he sighed and answered. "Rutherford here, what have you got for us now?"

Rachel turned her attention to the stack of papers on her desk. They were request forms to be sent with the body fluid samples to the state lab. If she wanted to make the four-o-clock pick up, she'd have to fill them out now. She looked up at the sound of footsteps. Mike walked in. "Sorry to brush you off," he said. "It was a personal matter."

"So I heard." She returned to filling out the forms.

He noticed the papers. "Is that for Jane Doe?"

"They get collected at four. I know how you want quick answers." She gathered up the slips, wrapped them around the test tubes and stuffed them into the lab envelope. She dropped it into the basket marked pick up.

"Thought you were going to run tests here?"

"I'll do them, when I do them. First I have got dead-lines on an autopsy reports. Court dates coming up. And my ex has already sent me nasty messages over voicemail."

Mike Laughed. "You and Jesse still at each other's throat?"

"Mike love is fleeting. Contempt is forever."

"So you're not going to vote for him?"

"Actually, I think Jesse's got the right temperament for a D.A. Don't you agree he's got that striking resemblance to a Doberman." She replied sarcastically. "Besides Jesse and the Major deserve each other."

"Crap," Matt send snapping his phone shut.

"What's up?" Mike asked.

"We just got a call. They found another one. Female no signs of trauma."

Rachel looked up from the file drawer. Matt was already scribbling in his notebook. "Another O.D?" She asked.

"Probably." _Too many corpses, too many deaths, and this is what it does to us_, Rachel thought. "Where's the Vic?" she asked.

"South Lexington."

"What part?"

Matt shut his notebook. "Same place we the other one, the Projects."

Noah Puckerman walks quickly across the street. He unlocked his Range Rover, and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him.

He sat there for the moment, relieved to be hidden behind the tinted windows, a place where no one could read his expression, or hear his thoughts. Turning on the heater, he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to heat them up.

_It wasn't her, I should be thankful for that._ He started the engine and pulled on to the street, straight in to the predictable city traffic. His first thought was to drive to the comfort of his home in Surry Heights. He should call his secretary and tell her he would be in the office today. He needed to regain his composure, something he'd lost when first heard that doctor's voice on his answering machine.

What was her name again? Berry. Yup, that was it. He vaguely wondered what her first name was. She was a straight shooter; he appreciated that. What he hadn't appreciated was her sharp eyes, and how she needed to know everything. She's seen far more than he'd intended on revealing.

He merged onto the freeway. Still a half hour to Surry Heights. He wanted out of the city, out of all this gray and gloomy concrete.

Then he passed a highway sign that said: South Lexington, exit ½ mile.

What came next was a snap decision, a crazy impulse driven by guilt. He turned onto the ramp and followed the curve until it eased into South Lexington Avenue. Suddenly he was driving into a war zone.

Here, on South Lexington, it was hard to imagine anything but rats residing behind all this red brick and shattered glass. He drove past empty warehouses and dead businesses, remainders of the cities better days. Two miles south behind the abandoned Johan Weir, he came to the Projects. He could see them from blocks away, those seven gray towers propped up against an equally gray sky.

They were relics from an earlier age, born of good intentions, but doomed by location and design. They looked like prison towers. Even so they remained occupied. He saw the cars parked on the road, clumps of people gathered on corners, a man huddled on his front stoop, a kid shooting baskets in an alley hoop. They all glanced up as Puck drove past, every pair of eyes taking note of this territorial incursion.

Puck drove another block, pulled over to the side and parked in front of building number five.

For an hour he just sat in his car, watching the streets, the alleyways and the playground across the street. He knew people were watching him they always did.

Someone tapped on his window. He glanced through the tinted window and saw women. She had long Red hair in big messy curls and a white face caked in cheap make up. Looking closer, he realized she was only a young girl, probably no older than eighteen. Once again she tapped on the window and he rolled it down slightly.

"Hey honey," she smiled sweetly. "You looking for me."

"I'm looking for Beth," he said.

"Don't know any one named Beth. What about me?"

He grinned. "I don't think so."

"I'm open to anything. Indulge your fantasies."

"No thanks." He rolled up his window.

He watched her smile turn into a scowl. She muttered something under her breath and then turned and walked away. He watched her blue jean-clad hips sway as she headed down the street, and pause in front of a group of young men. No interest there. With a shrug she kept walking.

Something about that girl and her walk announcing to the world: _I can't take care of myself _– reminded him of someone. Dr Berry, the women with no first name. She had dark hair, think and glossy in gentle waves, just long enough to cover her shoulders. And her walk had that confident spring in her step. He suddenly wished he told her the truth, about the matchbook, about Beth. He knew she knew he'd been lying. It was necessary to hide the truth, but he felt wrong about it. And that troubled him, that Dr Berry thought he was some sort of miscreant, who could be trusted.

_Why should it bother me? I'll never see that women again._

At least he hoped he wouldn't. A trip to the city morgue wasn't something he wanted to do again. He wondered how she could stand it, dealing with death every day. How could one live with those images? He himself was having trouble dealing with just one image he'd seen an hour ago – the dead women, the one who'd been clutching the matchbook.

Thank god it wasn't Beth.

He reached for his car phone, dialled the office and told Mercedes that he wouldn't be coming in. She sounded surprised; it was unlike him to skip work, even for a day.

Outside, a police car slowly cruised by and continued down South Lexington. Children, just out of school, skipped along the pavement, kicking glass. Puck told Mercedes he'd see her in the morning and hung up the phone. Then grim faced he went back to watching the street.

Dr. Artie Abram's, the chief medical examiner, had an office on the fourth floor, in the distant corner of the facility. It was as far as anyone could get from the grim day-to-day business of the morgue and still work in the same building.

"Drug are a fact of life in this town." Said Artie. "We can't chase them all. Unless you're sure it's something new, I can't see getting distracted-"

"That's just it," said Rachel as she sat down in chair opposite him. "I don't know if it's something new. But I think you should tell the Major. And maybe the press."

Artie shook his head. "Don't you think your overreacting?"

"Artie, in the last twenty four hours, I've had two come in, young women, no signs of trauma. Both found in South Lexington area. Since they both had tracks on their arms and recent needle punctures, I was ready to call them ODs."

"Heroin?"

"That is the problem. I can't identify it. I've done all the tests, but I'll have to wait a week for the state lab to send the results."

"What have you run here?"

"Thin layer and gas chromatography. Subject one had a positive ethanol. Subject two turned up salicylates, probably just asprin. Both subjects had the same peak on the gas chromatography – it looks like a narcotic."

"There's your answer."

"Here's the problem. It's a weird peak, biphasic. Not quite opiate, not quite cocaine."

"Impurities maybe someone cut two drugs together."

"Maybe."

"Wait until state ID's it. It will only take a week."

"And in the meantime?"

"You only have two victims."

She stood up and put both hands on the desk. "Artie, I don't want any more victims. And I'm scared there will be more."

"Why?"

"After the second women came in, I rang round the hospitals. Hancock General admitted three OD's yesterday. Two were obviously suicide attempts. But the third was a young man brought in by his parents. He had a cardiac arrest in the ER. They managed to pull him back. He's in the ICU right now, still unconscious, still critical."

"Hancock's a busy ER. You'd expect ODs to show up there."

"I spoke to the hospital lab. They ran routine tests there result came up the same as mine.

Artie didn't say anything. He just sat there and frowned at her.

"Artie," she said. "I think we are seeing the start of an epidemic."

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><p>This is the second chapter, i hope you like it.<p>

please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Or the Book this story is based on.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3.<p>

Artie shook his head sighing. "Sorry Berry, but it's too early to call," he said. "Too early to go to the press. You've only got three vics."

"Guess where the boy lived Abram's? South-Freaking-Lexington. Five blocks away from where the other two girls were found. I am telling you, there is something new out there and its killing off junkies and South Lexington seems to be where it's coming from. You need to get on the phone to the mayor. Call a press conference. Get the news out there before I get anymore dead boys or girls lying in my basement."

"I don't know."

"What is there not to know?"

"It could just be a single batch. Maybe that's all there is."

"Or maybe there is a whole load of this shit sitting in some drug pusher's warehouse."

Annoyed, Artie sat back in his chair running his fingers through his hair. "Alright, alright, I'll talk to the mayor. But this is a bad time to bring this up. With the city bicentennial and all. He's launching his campaign this week-"

"Artie, people are dying."

"Okay! I will call him this afternoon, Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

Feeling satisfied, Rachel left Arties office and headed back to the basement. Back in her office, Rachel considered drinking the last drains of the coffee pot. No, she wasn't that desperate. Two files lay on her desk, files she couldn't complete. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to complete them. One was Jane Doe's. The other was for Regina Vargas, the second women from South Lexington. She at least had been found with an ID. Though they hadn't yet confirmed Vargas was her real name.

Two dead women. And no one could tell her how – or why – she died.

On the corner of her desk was a notebook with the name Dr David Karofsky scribbled on it. He was the ER doctor she'd spoken to earlier, the one who'd admitted the male overdose victim at Hancock General.

It was five-o-clock; she could hear the evening morgue attendants laughing in the prep room, enjoying the brief and blessed lull before the madness of nightfall.

Rachel changed out of her scrubs and into her casual clothes. A light pair of skinny jeans, and a blue tank top, and pulled her brown leather jacket on top, and left the building.

She didn't drive home. Instead she drove straight to South Lexington, to Hancock General.

It sat like a fortress. Surrounded by barbed wire fencing. The front entrance overhung by surveillance cameras. The ER clerk sitting behind a bulletproof window. Speaking through a microphone. "How can I help you?"

"I'm Dr Berry. ME's office. I want to see a Dr David Karofsky. It's about a patient of his?"

"I'll page him now."

A few minutes later Dr Karofsky emerged, look tired and frustrated. A stethoscope wrapped around his neck and blood on his scrubs. "You just caught me," he said. "I was going off shift. You're from the ME?"

"We talked earlier. About that overdose."

"Oh yeah, he's up in intensive care. I can't remember his name ..."

"Can we go up to the unit and check out his chart?"

"I guess its okay seeing as you're an official and all."

Walking through the hospital, Rachel looked around. "I see this place hasn't changed."

"Did you use to work here?"

"No I did my residency over at St. Luke's. But I knew a patient here. A relative."

He laughed. "Not sure, I'd want a relative here."

"Didn't matter. She didn't know where she was anyway."

They stepped into the staff elevator, crowded with nurses and doctors.

"So are you from the city?" asked Karofsky.

"A Native, you?"

"Lima, Ohio. I'm going back."

"Don't like it here?"

"Put it this way. Compared to this town, Lima is like the garden of Eden."

They got off on the fifth floor and walked to the intensive care unit. It was a giant room with bars on the windows. The beds were separated by curtains. Only two beds were empty.

Simon Atkins lay in bed number thirteen. Only comatose patients had this bed, Karofsky said.

Simon was a large fellow. He was husky and about twenty. He had biceps and pectorials which had obviously done double time at the local gym. There were tubes connecting to various parts of his body. He lay unresponsive. According to the chart he was unresponsive to even the most intense of stimuli.

"Twenty four hours and not a twitch plus were having trouble stabilising his pressure. It goes haywire on us, shoots up, and then bottoms out. I'm going crazy trying to juggle these meds."

Rachel flipped through Simons chart, quickly deciphering the hurried notes of the ICU resident. The patient had been found unconscious in his car, parked outside his parent's apartment. He'd been sprawled in the front seat. Beside him had been his kit. Somehow during the rush to stabilize him, his syringe had disappeared. They thought the family might have it; the family claimed the EMTs had it. The police say they never saw it. In any event the blue toxology would provide the answers.

"You have no history at all?" asked Rachel. "Nothing about what he shot up, where he got it from?"

"Nope. Not a thing, his parents are in the dark. They had no idea that their kid was a junkie. Which is probably why he did it in the car, so they didn't know he was doing it."

"I have two women in the morgue with the same results of what he shot up."

Karofsky sighs. "Great another drug hitting our streets."

"When will your final tox report be done?"

"I don't know it's been twenty four hours already. If this is something new, it may take weeks to identify, these pharmaceutical whizzes out there crank out new drugs like new shoes."

"You agree then, it's something new."

"Oh yeah, I've seen it all come through here. PCP, tropical ice, fruit loops. This is something different. Something bad. I think the only reason this guy is still alive, and your two women aren't, is because he's a big dude. All that muscle mass. Takes a bigger dose to kill him."

_It could still kill him._ Thought Rachel, watching the comatose patient.

"If this goes to the media, can I use you as a source?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think we need a warning to go out to the streets. There is something bad killing youngsters."

Karofsky didn't answer right away. He just kept staring at the patient. "I don't know." He said at last.

"What do you mean you don't know? It would only be your voice to confirm my statement."

"I don't know," he repeated, shoving his hands in his scrub pants. "It's not as if you need me. You've got the authority."

"I could use the back up."

"It's just the press I'm not really comfortable talking to them."

"Okay then, let me just use your name. Would that be okay?"

He sighed. "I guess so. But I'd rather you didn't." Quickly he stood up straight and glanced at his watch. "Look I have to go. I'll catch you later."

Rachel watched him leave the ICU. _What was he afraid of? Why wouldn't he talk the press?_

She was on her way out, when she saw the Atkin's, coming in to see their son. She knew who they were when she saw their faces. Mrs Atkins was a skinny woman with short dark hair. He faced plastered with worry. Mr Atkins was tall and looked to numb to be feeling anything. They went to Simon's bedside. Mrs Atkin's stroking her son's hair. Singing softly to her son, she eventually dropped her head and started to cry. Mr Atkins just stood there, hands in his pocket, with a blank expression.

Rachel walked out the ICU. She needed to leave the scene; she took a wrong turn in the hallway. Instead of heading to the elevators she found herself in a different wing of the hospital she hadn't seen before. White walls and gleaming linoleum floor told her this section was new. Behind a glass cabinet on the floor displaying various mementoes of the wings opening: photographs of the hospitals officials at the ribbon cuttings. Shots of a celebrity black tie event. A bronze plaque engraved with, _The Santana Puckerman Wing._ And a news article with the headline: _Iveruit President dedicates multimillion dollar drug rehab addition. _Next to the article is a picture of a straight faced Noah, posing beside the plaque.

For a long time Rachel stood by that case, studying the pictures. Drug rehab? A surprising crusade from the guy who made his fortune, by selling drugs. Something clicked in Rachel's head. Dead junkies. A new drug on the street. Iveruit Pharmaceuticals.

And a matchbook with Noah Puckerman's phone number.

She reached for her phone and called Mike in Homicide.

He was on his way home and didn't see eager to prolong his work day.

"Let me put it this way Berry," he said. "In the grand scheme of things, drug ODs are not high on my list of priorities."

"Think about it Mike. What's an addict doing with Puckerman's personal number? Why was Puckerman so eager to look at the body? He's hiding something."

"No he's not."

"I think he is."

"They were junkies. They lived on the edge, they fell off. It's not homicide. It's stupidity. Survival of the smartest."

"Maybe that's what you think. Maybe that's what Puckerman thinks. But I still have two dead women."

"Forget Puckerman. The man is into drug rehab, not drug pushing."

"Mike this is a new drug. I spoke to and ER doctor and he agrees with me. To create a new drug you need a biochemist. A lab, a factory, Iveruit has it all."

"It's a legit company."

"With a possible illegitimate branch."

"Fuck sake, Berry. I'm not going to hassle Puckerman."

"I heard you did a favour for him. On the side."

He paused. "Yeah. So what?"

"So what were you doing for him in South Lexington?"

"Look, you want hear details. Then you talk to him." Mike snapped then hung up.

Rachel stared at the phone and sighed. Slipping her phone into her pocket she saw the Atkin's coming out of the ICU. They were leaning on each other. Rachel thought of their son. She thought of the two bodies lying back at the morgue. Something was killing these people; something had sunk its evil roots into the Project's.

Her old neighbourhood.

On her way back to the freeway, she drove up South Lexington. In the last few years nothing had changed. The seven Project buildings still looked like prison towers, the playground still had a bent hoop and the teenagers still hung on the street corner of Franklin and South Lexington. But the faces were different. There was a new hardness to the gaze, wariness as they watched her drive by. Only then did the thought strike her.

To them she was an outsider. Someone to be watched, someone to be guarded against. Someone not to be trusted. _They don't know, I'm one of them. Or I was._

She continued up the South Lexington and took the freeway on-ramp.

Traffic was still heavy north. It was the evening exodus to the suburbs, a daily haemorrhage of white collar types to Bellemeade, Parris, Clarendon and Surry Heights. Those who could afford to flee fled. Even Rachel, a city born and bred, now lived in the suburbs. Just last year she bought a house in Bellemeade. It seemed like a logical move, financially speaking, and she'd reached the point in her life when she made the commitment – any commitment, even if it was only to a three bedroom cape.

On impulse she drove past the Bellemeade turn off and stayed on the freeway. It took her half an hour to drive to Surry Heights.

Along the way the traffic thinned and the scenery changed. Huge houses, gave way to trees and rolling hills, newly green form those proverbial April showers. White fences and horses appeared. She took Surry Heights exit on to Long Yard Lane. About three miles down the road, she came to the Puckerman Residence. There was no mistaking the entrance two stone pillars flanked the long driveway with Puckerman mounted on one of the Pillars in iron writing.

The gate hung open. Rachel drove through and followed the curve of the drive way.

In front of the house three cars were parked. A Jaguar and two Mercedes. She parked her mini cooper and climbed out, eye up the expensive cars. She went to the front door and rang the bell. The door open and a man wearing a butler type gazed down at her. "Yes?" he said.

Rachel cleared her throat. "Yeah, urhm I'm Dr Berry, Medical Examiner's office. I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Noah Puckerman."

"Is Mr. Puckerman expecting you?"

"No. But I'm here on official business."

For a minute the man considered her request. Then opened the door wider. "Come in."

She stepped inside. She looked around at the huge foyer. A large stair case twisting along the wall with a giant chandelier hanging in the middle of the room.

"If you could please wait here." He disappeared behind a side door. She could hear the distant sound of a women laughing, and the strains of music. _Oh shit, he's got a party going. Great timing Berry. _

She heard footsteps. Noah Puckerman emerged from the side room. He was dressed formally with black dress pant, white collared shirt and a tie tied loosely round his neck. "Dr Berry," he said. "Is this urgent? Or can it wait?"

"I think its Urgent."

"More Questions?" he asked.

"Another body."

She watched his reaction, and was not at all surprised to see his face flinch. "Whose?"

"A women. They found her not too far from the other body. In South Lexington. Looks like another drug OD."

He still looked stunned. "Do you ... you know want me to look at the body?"

"Not necessarily. But you may know the name. She had her ID on her. Regina Vargas? I assume it's hers because the corpse matches the ID. Does that name ring a bell?"

He let out a sigh of relief, "No, I don't know that name."

"What about the name Simon Atkins?"

"Nope, why?"

"Just curious."

Puck snorted in disbelief. "You show up at my house and assault me with names just to see my reaction to corpses?"

"Who said Simon Atkin's was dead?"

"I don't know who the hell he is!" his voice bouncing off the empty walls. "Who is Simon Atkin's and is he or not a corpse."

"Simon is alive – barely, he's a patient at Hancock General. A drug OD. We're worried about the drug. It's something new and it's killed two women and left Simon critically ill. I wondered if you knew anything about it."

"Why would I?"

"A hunch."

To her annoyance, he laughed. "I hope this isn't the way the ME's office usually conducts business. Because if it is, our criminal justice system is in big trouble."

The side door opened again. Gorgeous women appeared with a curious look on her face. Her evening dress, a long slivery dress, with a slit up the side to show her perfect legs. Her hair fell in curls to her shoulder. She glanced at Rachel – obviously sizing her up, then a dismissal. "Puck?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, still looking at Rachel. "It's just business."

"Oh," she said smiling innocently. "Ivana just brought out the soup, and we didn't want to start without you."

"Sorry Quinn. Why don't you just go ahead with supper, Dr Berry and I aren't finished."

Again she looked at Rachel. "We can set another place, if you like. For you visitor."

There was an awkward silence, as though Noah was trying to find away to avoid inviting his unwanted guest.

"That won't be necessary," Rachel said, and thought she saw a look of relief cross his face. "I'll be leaving as soon as were done."

Quinn smiled again, as if equally relieved. "Join us when you can Puck." And disappeared through the side door.

Puck and Rachel looked at each other for a few minutes. "Let's continue this in the study." He said leading her in to a room. It was deadly masculine with dark wood and leather couches. She felt slightly insulted he didn't invite her to super. Sure she would have turned it down. But at least she would have had the pleasure of turning him down. It was a matter of pride.

"So what's this hunch of yours?" He demanded. "Why do you think I would know about it?"

"Because of the matchbook."

"Not much of a reason."

"Because this is a brand new drug I've never seen."

"So?"

"And because you're the president of Iveruit Pharmaceuticals. A company known for its R and D painkillers. A company that has just released a new class of opiates."

"We also make drugs for athlete's foot."

"Oh and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Until you saw the body, you thought Jane Doe was someone you knew."

He fell silent, all trace of mockery gone. He sat down at the chair at his desk. Looking at the floor, avoiding her gaze.

"Who did you think she was Mr. Puckerman?"

"Someone ... close to me."

"What's the secret here? Why can't you just say who you thought she was?"

"I don't exactly want to discuss my problems with a stranger."

"Then you can discuss this drug? It's something new. A narcotic with a biphasic peak on gas chromatography. Could it be something leaked out of Iveruit? Something new that you are developing?"

"I wouldn't want to speculate."

Of course he wouldn't. Because then he'd be vulnerable to all sorts of accusations. The manufacture of lethal drugs. The slaughter of junkies.

Slowly he looked at her. "You said you had another body?"

"Regina Vargas?"

"Is she ... young?"

"About eighteen."

"Describe her to me."

"You think you might know her."

"Please. Just tell me what she looks like."

"She's about five foot four, thin. Dark brown hair."

"Could it be dyed?"

"Possibly."

"What about her eyes. What colour?"

"Hazel."

Another silence, he rose to his feet. "I think I better see her."

"You mean – now?"

"If we could." His gaze was pleading.

She stood up and followed him into the foyer. "What about your guests?"

"They can feed themselves, would you wait here while I excuse myself?" he went through the side door. Rachel caught a glimpse of a formal dining table and half a dozen guests around the table. Some glanced curiously at Rachel. She heard Quinn ask "Should I wait for you Puck?"

"Please, don't," he said. "I don't know how long I'll be."

"This is quite naughty of you, you know?"

"It can't be helped, good night everyone! Your welcome to my wine cellar, but leave me a few bottles will you." He clapped one of the men on the shoulder, waved farewell and came back in the foyer shutting the door behind him.

"That's done, Now, Let's go."

* * *

><p><em>I have loads of spare time so hopefully, this story should be finished in the next two weeks before i go on holiday.<em>  
><em>Hope you are enjoying the story, thank you for Reviewing. <em>  
><em>And Please <span>continue<span> to review :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or the book this story is based on.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4.<p>

The morgue elevator slid open. _Here we go again_. She thought.

The basement was calm tonight. The only noise was the morgue attendant's radio playing a very upbeat Kesha song. She and Puck passed the open door, where they could see him sitting reading a dirty magazine with his feet on the desk.

"Hey Charles."

"Sup Doc," he said grinning at her. "Not much in tonight."

"I can tell." She said nodding her head at his magazine.

"What, this?" he said slightly waving his magazine. "I'm getting tired of looking at dead girls; I like mine alive and sassy."

Chuckling slightly. "I bet you do, we're going to the cold room, okay?"

"Need any help?"

"No, you just stay with your sassy chicks."

She and Puck walked down the hall. Entering the storage room she flick on the light switch, and blinked painfully as the bright fluorescent light bounced on. The refrigerated draw on the other side.

She walked over to the draw labelled, Regina Vargas and slid it open. Puck stared at the body before sighing.

"You don't know her?" said Rachel.

"No, never seen her before either."

She slid the body back in the drawer and crossed her arms. "Okay Mr. Puckerman, it's time to fess up who exactly you are looking for."

"A woman."

"No shit. I know that. I also know she's got hazel eyes the chances are she's either blond or redhead. Now I want to know her name."

"Beth." He said gently.

"Now we are getting somewhere. Beth who?"

"Beth Puckerman."

She frowned. "Wife? Sister?"

"Daughter. I mean step daughter. She's eighteen. And your right. She's blond. A hundred and fifteen pounds. At least she was when I last saw her."

"And when was that?"

"Five months ago."

"She's missing?"

He shrugged. "Missing, Hiding. Whatever you want to call it. She drops out of sight when she feels like it. Whenever she can't face up to life. It's her way of coping."

"Coping with what?"

"Everything, bad grades. Love affairs. Her mother's death. Her lousy stepfather."

"So you guys didn't get along?"

"No, I couldn't handle her. I thought I could shape her up. You know, a firm hand, some good old-fashioned discipline. The way my mother raised me. I got her a job, tried to show her some responsibility. That she could at least show up on time, do the job right, and pay for her own damn groceries, she turned up at work with purple hair, two hours late. She had a screaming match with her supervisor then walked off the job. She was fire."

"And that was the last time she was seen?"

"No, I took her out to lunch. To try and sort it out but we ended up arguing."

"Let me guess you took her to Laetrile?"

He nodded. "Beth showed up, in black leather. Insulted the maitre d' and lit up a joint in the non smoking section. And proceeded to tell me I had sick values. I told her she was just plain sick. I also told her I wouldn't be paying for her anymore until she got herself together. I'd changed my house number, so I wrote it in the matchbook and gave it to her. Just in case."

"And the matchbook?"

"She must have passed it around and somehow that chick got it, I dunno."

"You haven't seen her since the restaurant?"

"How does Mike fit into this?"

"A Private detective I hired told me Beth was hanging round South Lexington. That's Lieutenant Changs beat. I only asked him to keep an eye out for her as a favour. He thought he saw her once but that's it."

It sounded truthful. Rachel looked at the way he was stood. _So why do I get the feeling he's still hiding something?_

"What you are telling me Mr. Puckerman isn't exactly earth shattering. Loads of families have problems with their kids. Why were you afraid to tell me about me, Mr Puckerman? Why hide it from me?"

"Its a rather embarrassing."

"Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough," he stared at her. _What is it about this guy?_

She gave her head a shake, as though to clear it. "No," she said. "It's not enough, so what if you had told me the truth this morning? I'm just a public servant. You don't get embarrassed it front of your servants, do you?

He gave her a tight lipped smile. "You, Dr. Berry. I hardly consider you a servant."

"Is there something else about Beth, some minor detail you haven't mentioned?"

"Nothing of any relevance to your job."

She sighed letting her arms fall to her sides. "Then I'd say our business is done here." She said. "Go home to your guests. If you hurry in time you might make it back for brandy."

"Who's this?" he said pointing to a drawer.

"What?"

"This drawer it says Jane Doe."

Rachel looked at the drawer: #409-1-57-B.

"Another one dated seven days ago. Will must have handled this one."

"Who's Will?"

"The other Assistant ME. He's on vacation right now."

Puck took a deep breath. "May I ..."

Rachel nodded and pulled open the drawer. The women was beautiful. Seven days of stainless steel imprisonment could dull the glow of her hair. It was a shiny black thick tumbling past her shoulders. Her skin was flawlessly white. Her eyes were grey. She looked at Puck. "You can close the door, it's not her."

"I wonder who she is." Said Rachel sliding the door shut. "She looks like the type of women who'd be missed. Not our usual Jane Doe."

"Would you know how she died?"

"Lets pull the file."

The found it in Will's office. Carelessly tossed on his desk.

"Look like she's no longer a Jane Doe. They found a fingerprint match her name is Alison Marchio. I guess Will didn't get round to changing the tags."

"Why does she have fingerprints on her file?"

Rachel flipped to the next page. "Because she has a police record. Shoplifting. Prostitution. Public drunkenness. Guess she wasn't as sweet as she looked."

"Cause of death?"

"Subject found 5/98 at 1:25 in public restroom at Yvonne's Bar, off Flasher Avenue." Rachel looked up. "That's in Bellemeade. I live there." She turned to the next page. "No injuries, tox screens still pending. Police report empty bottle of Fiorinal pills found near body. Conclusion: cardiopulmonary arrest, most likely due to overdose. Awaiting screen tox."

"Is the report back yet?"

Rachel rifled through Will's desk and found nothing. "I don't see it here. It's probably still pending." She closed the file. "This case is doesn't fit in with the others. Bellemeade's a different neighbourhood, with a different type of drug users. Higher priced."

"The others were all in South Lexington?"

"Within blocks of each other. Jane Doe, smack bang in the middle of the projects so was Alison. Simon Atkins was a little further out on Richmond Street. Let's see that would make it somewhere near the old railway tracks. But it's still the same neighbourhood."

"You seem to know the area well."

"Too well," she said tossing Alison's film onto Will's desk. "I grew up there."

He looked surprised. "You?"

"Me."

"How did you ..." he said trying to find a way to ask without offending.

"How did I happen to grow up there? Simple that's where my mom lived. Right up until she died."

"So you would know some of the people there?"

"Some of them but the neighbours always changing. People, who can get out, get out. It's like a giant pond. Either you float up and crawl out, or you sink deeper."

"And you floated."

"I got lucky." She shrugged.

He studied her with a new appreciation, as though he was truly seeing her. "I'm sure in your case, Dr Berry; I think luck had nothing to do with it."

"Not like some of us." She said looking at his fancy clothes.

He laughed. "Yes some of us seem to be rolling in it."

They rode back up in the elevator and walked out of the building. He had driven in his car, she in hers. Now they paused beside their respective vehicles, as though reluctant to part.

He turned to her. "What I was saying before about you know people in South Lexington, I was trying to ask for your help."

"My Help?"

"I want to find Beth."

"Mike Chang is a good cop, if he can't find her-"

"That's just it he's a cop. No one around there trusts cops. Certainly Beth wouldn't trust him. Shed think he would be trying to arrest her. Or reel her in for me."

"Is that what your trying to do?"

"I just want to know if she's alive and well."

"She's an adult Noah; she can make her own decisions."

"What if her choices are crazy?"

"Then she lives with them."

"You don't understand. I made a promise to her mother. I promised that Beth would be taken care of so far I've done a crappy job." He sighed. "I should at least look for her."

"What if she doesn't want to be found?"

"Then she should tell me to my face, but I have to find her first. And you're the only one who knows South Lexington."

Rachel chuckled. "Yeah I guess it's not the sort of neighbourhood that your dinner guests would be caught dead in."

"I would really appreciate it, just show me the area. Put me in touch with some people. I'd pay you for your time, of course. Just tell me how much-"

"Wait a minute." She said stepping closer to him. "You were going to pay me?"

"I mean it's only fair."

"Forget it. I'm a doctor, Puckerman Okay? I'm not a butler. I'm not a maid. I'm a doctor; I get paid for what I do."

"So?"

"Which means I don't need a moon lighting job. When I do a favour for a friend – and I'm not necessarily calling you a friend – I do it as a friend. No money."

"You're telling me your willing to help out of the kindness of your heart. You want me to be grateful. And I really do. But I really need your help."

She walked to her car and flung open the passenger door. "Get in, Puckerman."

"What?"

"Were not taking your car, because it's nice and new. Range Rovers and invitation to the chop shop. So let's go in mine."

"To South Lexington?"

"You want an intro to the place, I know some people you can talk to. People who know what's happening in the neighbourhood."

Puck hesitated.

"Listen," she said. "You want to live dangerously or not?"

He stared at her Mini Cooper, and then he shrugged. "Why not?" he said and then he climbed into the car.

South Lexington was a different place at night. What by day had seemed merely drab and depressing had, by night had a new menace. Rachel parked beneath a streetlamp, and a moment she studied the sidewalk. A block away was a dozen or so teenagers had gathered on the corner. They looked harmless enough.

"It looks okay, let's go."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

They got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk towards building five. The teenagers at once, alerted to intruders in their territory, turned and stared. Automatically, Puck moved closer beside Rachel and tightly grasping her arm. The building was unlocked, so they went inside. The lobby was as she remembered it: dingy walls, nutmeg coloured carpet to hide the stains. The graffiti was a little more graphic then she remembered.

The elevator as always was out of commission. "I don't think it ever worked," she muttered. Noting the faded _Out of Order_ sign. "Its four flights up. We'll have to walk."

They went up the stairs, stepping over broken toys and cigarette buds. Noises filtered out from the various apartments: crying babies, blaring TV sets and radios, a women yelling at her kids. Floating above it all were the pure and crystalline tones of a girl singing 'Amazing Grace.' The girl's voice grew louder until they stood in front of the door, where the sound was coming from.

Rachel Knocked.

The singing stopped. Footsteps approached, and the door opened a crack. A girl with white skin gazed out of the security chain.

"Tina?" said Rachel.

"RACHEL!" she cried as she unlocked the door chain. She turned and called out "Papa Max! Its Rachel."

"Don't rush me." grumbled a voice

Tina gave Rachel an embarrassed look as they stepped into the apartment. "Those bones of his," she murmured. "Those bone's of his hurt him real bad in this weather. He's in a foul mood ..."

"Who's in a foul mood?" snapped Papa Max, shuffling into the room.

Rachel went forward to give him a hug; it was like hugging a stranger. "Hi Papa Max." She said.

"You've got some nerve, girl," he said. "Go two, three, not even droppin' by'."

"Papa Max!" said Tina. "She's here now isn't she?"

"Yeah, got good 'n' guilty, did she?"

Rachel laughed and took his hand. "How have you been Papa Max? Did you get the coat I sent you?"

"What coat?"

"You know," sighed Tina. "The down jacket, Papa Max. You wore it all that winter."

Tina gave her a, _you know how he is_ look and said "He loves that coat."

"Papa Max," she said. "I brought someone with me."

"Who?"

"His name is Noah, he's standing over here." Gently she turned the old man to face Puck. Papa Max extended his arm, and held it mid air expecting a handshake. Puck took the offered hand and grasped it firmly.

"Hello ... Papa Max." He said.

Papa Max started laughing. "Make you feel stupid, doesn't it? Big fellow like you callin' a shrimp like me Papa."

"Not at all sir."

"So what's going on with our Rachel here?"

"He's just a friend Papa Max." Said Rachel.

"Oh, it's like that."

"I wanted you to meet him, talk to him. See he's looking for someone. A woman."

Papa Max lifted his head in interest. The blind eyes seemed to focus on her. "What do I know?"

"You know everything that goes on in the Project's."

"Let me sit down," the old man said. "My bones are killing me."

They went into the kitchen. Like the rest of the apartment, the room was on the far side of used. Linoleum tiles had worked loose below the sink. The counters were chipped. Papa Max's other grandchild, Jay, was sat hunched at the table, shovelling spaghetti hoops into his mouth. He glanced up and then carried on eating.

"Hey Jay!" yelled Papa Max. "Ain't you gonna say hello to your old babysitter."

"Hello," grumbled Jay.

Their personalities hadn't changed one bit, Rachel realised watching Tina and Jay all them years while Papa Max worked. Tina could warm a room with her smile. Jay could chill it with a single glance.

Papa Max shuffled about the kitchen. "You hungry?" he asked. "You want something to eat?"

Rachel and Puck watched Jay noisily lap up the tomato sauce, and they said in the same breath. "No thanks."

They all sat down at the table. "So who's this woman you're looking for?" he asked.

"Her name is Beth Puckerman," said Rachel. "We think she's living in the Projects."

"You have a picture?"

Rachel glanced at Puck.

"Yeah, I do actually."

He reached into his wallet and pulled out a picture, placing it on the table.

"Tina?" said Papa Max.

Tina picked up the photo and studied it. "Oh wow, she's really pretty. Blond hair kind of shy looking."

"How old?"

"She's eighteen." Said Puck. "She looks different now. Probably dyed her hair some crazy colour. Wears more make up now."

"Jay? You seen this girl around?" asked Papa Max.

Jay glanced at the photo and shrugged. Then he rose, tossed his empty bowl in the sink, and stalked out of the kitchen. A moment later, they heard the apartment door slam shut.

"Like a wild animal that boy, comes and goes when he want. Don't know what to do about him."

Tina was still studying the Beth's photo. Softly she asked. "Who is she?"

"My daughter," said Puck,

Papa Max sat back in his chair, nodding with instant understanding. "So you're looking for you girl?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Puck shook his head confused. "Because she's my daughter."

"But she ran away. She doesn't want to be found. Girl like that, you aint ever going to find her 'less she comes to you."

"Then I suppose, id settle for knowing that she was okay."

Papa Max was silent a moment. It was hard to tell what his thoughts were behind those clouded eyes. "Your gonna wanna talk to Azimo"

"Azimo?" asked Rachel.

"He's the big man now."

"Since when?"

"Year ago. Took over when Berto went down. Anything you want round here gotta go through Azimo."

"Thanks," said Rachel. "We'll follow up on that." She was about to stand when she thought of another question. "Papa Max, did you know a Simon Atkins?"

"I heard of him, Yeah."

"Regina Vargas?"

"Did you hear she died?"

He sighed. "Lotta people die round here."

"They took the same drug Papa Max. This drug has moved into the Projects and its killing people."

He didn't say anything, he just sat there. His sightless eyes staring at her.

"If you hear anything about it, will you call me?" she put her business card on the table. "I really need help with this."

"You still working for the city?"

"Yes. The medical examiner."

"Don't understand you Rach. You're a Doctor now, and your taking care of dead people."

"I find out why they die."

"But then it's too late. Don't do them any good. You should be working in a hospital. Or open your own place. It's what you mama wanted."

Rachel was suddenly aware of Pucks gaze on her. _Dammit Papa_, she thought,_ save the lecture for another time._

"I like my job. I couldn't stand it in a hospital."

Papa Max nodded with sad understanding. "Those were bad times for you, weren't they? All those months with your mama ..."

Rachel stood up quickly. "Thanks Papa Max, but we have to leave now."

Tina and her grandfather escorted them to the front door.

"Next time," grumbled Papa Max as Rachel and Puck left the apartment. "Don't wait so long to visits."

"I won't," said Rachel. "I promise." But it sounded hollow.

She and Puck headed back down the four flights of stairs, stepping over the same broken toys and cigarette buds. Oh how she used to sit outside her apartment door, her knees bunched up against her chest waiting for her mother to calm down. Listening to the sound crying, the sound of the mothers anguish. The memories all her rushed at her as she walked out the stairwell, and she knew exactly why she waited so long to come back.

On the third floor landing, she paused out side apartment 3H. The door was a different colour now. She felt Puck put his hand on her shoulder. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's just-" she laughed. "Nothing stays the same does it? Thank god." She turned and continued down the stairs. He was standing far too close for comfort.

"So your names Rachel."

"Yup."

"Berry really suits it."

"Yeah. A lot better than St. James."

"Excuse me."

"My divorce was final six months ago. Took my maiden name back."

"Oh, care to explain to me who Azimo is?"

"The big man, around here. He watches over here, keeps out rival gangs. If you want any favours, have any questions, he's the guy to ask."

"Oh like an unofficial mayor of the neighbourhood."

"You got it."

They went outside, into the night that smelled of wind and rain. She glanced up at the sky, saw the clouds hurtling passed the moon. "It's getting late," she said. "Let's get out of here."

They hurried down the steps, two paces was all they managed to take before they both halted, staring in shock at the empty stretch of road beneath the streetlamp.

"Fuck."

Her car had vanished.

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><p><em>I have had nothing to do all day so in all this free time I'm trying to get these chapters done as fast for you guys.<em>  
><em>I hope your enjoying this story. <em>  
><em>Please Review, and two everyone who has Reviewed.<em>  
><em>Thank You. :)<em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or the book this story is based on.**

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><p>Chapter 5.<p>

Laughter drifted down the empty and dark streets.

Rachel spun around and saw the group of teenagers, still standing at the far corner. They were looking her way and grinning. _Damn kids_. She thought. In fury she stalked towards them "Hey!" she yelled "Hey!"

Puck grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking. "This is a bad idea." He said.

"Let me go" pulling her arm out of his grip.

"On further thought, this is a terrible idea."

She rolled her eyes and continued on her war path. "I want my car back" she yelled as she reached the corner. The kids stared at her, but didn't move. "Okay, where is it?"

"Where's what, lady?"

"My car, dickhead."

"You had a car," the boy said with mock innocence.

Rachel ignored him. "It's not worth a hell of a lot, and it's defiantly not worth going to jail over. So just give it back to me. And maybe I won't call the cops."

Some of the kids retreated and faded into the background. The rest of them began to semi-circle. Suddenly she realised Puck was beside her, shoulder to shoulder, or kind of she was a lot shorter. _He didn't ditch me_. Maybe she'd underestimated him.

The kids were watching her, waiting for signs of fear. She knew how their minds worked; she's grown up with kids like these. Show one sign of fear and you were theirs.

She scanned the semi circle slowly. Staring each of the dead in the eye, showing no emotion on her face. "I want my car back."

"Or what?" one of the boys asked.

"Or my friend here gets nasty." She said pointing at Puck.

All gazes turned to Puck, who just stood there hands in his pocket showing off his well muscled arms, and strong torso. He had a dark look on his face. Now four of the six boys backed down. Only two left and they were getting edgy.

"No way are you getting your wheels back." Said one of them.

"Why not?"

"Jeez, she's long gone. Wasn't us."

"Then who was it?"

"Repo dude. He's in and out of here, your car lady, she's chop."

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. They were probably telling the truth. "This is hopeless, let's go" she muttered to Puck.

"Thought you'd never ask," he hissed. Cautiously they eased away from the group, and quickly made their way back to building five. They could use Papa Max's phone to ring the police. Thank god, her Mini was insured.

Rachel was so worried that the boys were pursuing them that she barely noted the footsteps behind her. Just as they made it to Building Five two figures emerged from the shadow blocking there way.

"Let us through" Rachel said through gritted teeth.

The boys didn't move.

"Just freaking move, before I move you." Puck barked at them.

They laughed and Rachel saw them glanced behind her.

She whirled round just in time to spot the attack.

A figure flew at Puck, thudding into his back. Sending him onto his knees. Now the two in front launched their attack. A fist slammed into Pucks jaw. Grunting he brought his hand to fend off the second blow. Rachel jumped into the fight. With a cry of rage she threw a right hook at her nearest attacker. Her knuckles connecting with his cheekbone. Her hand burning in pain. By now Puck had knocked over one of his attackers and was punching another one of his attackers. The guy on the rear jumped on his back, but puck threw him off. He rolled on the floor before something clicked in his hand.

"He's got a knife." Yelled Rachel.

Puck was too busy staring at the knife to notice the tackle on his left side. They both landed on the floor with the kid on top.

Rachel kicked the guy with knife in the back of the knee. He flew to his hands and knees, but not letting go of the knife. Something thudded her from behind, made her stumble to her knees. _A fourth? _She thought in confusion as hands gripped her arms. How many were there. Her hair was jerked back, her throat lay bare. The boy with the knife crouched beside her.

"No, don't hurt her." Yelled Puck.

The blade touched her throat. She watched Puck, struggling, trying to break the grip of the three boys holding him back. A fourth kicked him in the ribs. He gasped for air. "Leave her alone."

"We won't cut you," whispered a voice in Rachel's ear. "Not now, but you need to stay away you hear lady cop? Because she doesn't want to be found."

"I'm not a cop." Mumbled Rachel.

The blade bit sharply into her neck, she felt blood pouring down her neck. Then the knife was pulled back and her hair was released. She leaned on to her hands and knees, putting one hand to her neck and pulling it away to see it covered in blood. "I thought," she said hoarsely. "That you were going to cut me."

"That?" the kid with the knife laughed, pulling her to her feet. "That wasn't a cut that was just a little kiss." He signalled the gang it was time to leave and they took Pucks wallet and Rachel's purses and keys. "This time you got off easy." He said while, on the guys gave her a swift punch to the left eye, and the kid with the knife a swift kick to the shoulder, sending her flying across the glass scattered sidewalk.

"No god damn, car was worth this." Said Puck holding an ice pack to his face. The left side of his face was swollen and his lip was bleeding. His crisp white shirt was covered in her blood, and the tie was long gone.

He fit right in with the other down and outers sitting in Hancock Emergency Room waiting area.

"Anyone with common sense when to fight and when to leave it alone, you should have run." Grumbled Puck.

"I didn't see you running." She snapped.

"How could I? I wasn't going to leave you on your own."

She sighed. "Well thanks, I appreciate it."

"Let me tell you, I wasn't happy about nearly getting killed because of a Mini Cooper."

"I loved that car." Cried Rachel. "It was the first car I bought brand new."

"It could have been the only car you bought brand new."

A man staggered in to the waiting room, his eyes rolled back and he fainted. He was quickly rushed through to be treated. Everyone in the waiting room sighed. The wait would be longer.

"I'll tell you what," said Puck. "Next time this happens, I'll buy you a new car."

"I can buy my own car." Said Rachel. "I just don't like being ripped off." She and everyone else looked up hopefully as an ER nurse came into the waiting room.

"Ripped off, is better than getting your throat slit. All over a fucking car." He looked at the cut across her neck. The bleeding had slowed down but it looked painful, he sighed.

"My car? Don't you get it? This was nothing to do with my freaking car."

The nurse called out: "Berry?"

Rachel shot up out of the chair. "Here."

"Follow me."

"Wait," said Puck, tossing an ice pack into a nearby trash car. And grabbing her upper arm. "What do you mean you car had nothing to do with it. Then what the hell was that fight all about?"

"Your daughter." Said Rachel, jerking her arm out of his grasp and following the nurse out of the waiting room. Puck followed right behind.

"You'll have to wait outside, sir" said the nurse.

"He's with me." Said Rachel.

The nurse looked at Pucks face and Rachel's black eye. "Yeah, can tell. Lie down on the bed please."

Rachel got settled on the bed. The nurse began cleaning her knife slash; the sting of Betadine was almost worse than the blade itself.

"What makes you think Beth had anything to do with this." He snapped, obviously disbelieving.

"Something the dude with the knife whispered in my ear."

"Hold still." Snapped the nurse.

"He said, 'stay away lady cop. Because she doesn't want to be found.' Now that tells me a couple of things. First he's stupid; he can't tell a cop from a civilian. Second, he's warning us she doesn't want to be found. Who do you suppose 'She' is?"

"Beth." He sighed and put his head in his hands.

The ER doctor came in. He glanced at her neck wound.

"Wow, how'd you get it?"

"Switch blade."

"Someone try to kill you?"

"No, it was an accident."

The doctor sighed. "Okay, ill skip the dumb questions." He turned to the nurse. "She's going to need 15 stitches. And hand me the Xylocaine."

Rachel winced as the needle with the local anaesthetic pierced her skin. Then there was the moments wait for the drug to take place.

"I can't believed she do this," said Puck. "I mean we've had our differences. But for Beth to have her friends assault us."

"She was attacking you specifically. She probably didn't know who was asking about her. We might have avoided the whole scene if we had just told Jay that you were her father."

"Jay warned her?"

"He left the apartment while we were still there remember? Before you said anything about her being her daughter. Probably went straight to Beth."

"And she had out friends jump us."

"Well, you two living exciting lives." Said the doctor, tying off the first stitch.

They ignored him. "Beth must be scared of something," said Rachel. "Why send the troops at the first sign of strangers. What's she afraid of? What didn't you tell me." Rachel said glancing at Puck.

He shook his head. "She's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble."

He wearily ran his hands over his face.

"Does it have anything to do with Jane Doe?" asked Rachel. "With Alison Vargas or Simon?"

"Maybe." His answer came out muffled.

"Or does it have anything to do with Iveruit? Some miracle drug you've got in development."

He looked up in anger. "Why blame it on Iveruit? None of those tests are back! You don't know what the hell those junkies were shooting up."

"Do you know?"

He started to speak, then saw the doctor and nurse watching them in fascination.

"Are you gonna sew her up or what?" he snapped.

"I was hoping, I could hear the end of the story." Said the doctor, he tied up the last stitch and snipped the thread. "All done come back in for removal in five days."

"I can't pull them off myself, thanks." She jumped off the bed, and all of a sudden the room started spinning. She stumbled forward only to be caught by Puck.

"Last tetanus shot?" the doctor asked.

"Two years, I'm current."

He started telling her all the instructions but she was still holding on to support from Puck. Eventually she felt she was strong enough, so she pushed of him.

"Come back anytime, I can't wait for the next instalment." Chuckled the doctor.

Back in the hospital lobby, Rachel waited for Puck to ring his house. Collect of course; those punks had done a thorough job of emptying their pockets. It was a helpless feeling, being penniless.

"Vernon is on his way," said Puck, slamming the phone down. "We'll give you a ride home."

"Who's Vernon?"

"Sort of my man Friday. And he's not going to be pleased when he sees what I've done to his ironing job."

Rachel looked down at her tank top. "Maybe I should borrow him sometime. Along with his iron."

They sat down in the waiting area.

A half hour passed, forty-five minutes. It was almost midnight, and things were still hopping at Hancock General. The next shift of nurses dribbled in the parking lot, lugging umbrellas and lunch sacks. At the front door, an armed guard eyed everyone who walked in.

"He's upstairs you know." She said. "In the ICU."

"Who?"

"Simon Atkins. I came by to see him earlier today."

She shook her head. "He didn't look good. Whatever it was it fried his brains. And kidney's."

Puck stayed silent. Coldly so.

"The ER doc says it's something new. Something he's never seen before." She paused. "You said you gave Beth a job. Was it at Iveruit?"

"Yes."

"Which Department?"

"I don't know what this has to do with Beth ..."

"Which Department Puck!"

He let out a breath. "Research and development, she was on clean up duty."

"What was the lab working on?"

"Various projects. Everything from antibiotics to hair restorers."

"Morphine analogues."

"Look," he snapped. "We're a pharmaceutical company. And pain relief is a big market-"

"You're cooking up something new in that lab aren't you? Something no else has developed."

He stared at her the sighed. "It's kind of a break through. Or it will be, if we can iron out the kinks. It's very long lasting. Which makes it perfect for cancer patients."

"Long lasting? How long?"

"A dose of pain relief should last up to seventy-two hours, maybe longer. That's its advantage. If you overdose an animal it will put you in a long time coma." He looked up at her; she saw in his eyes was worry, maybe guilt and absolute honesty.

She rose to her feet. "Come with me."

"The ICU?"

"Simon's screen tox might be back, I want you to look at it, tell me if it matches your drug."

"But I'm not a biochemist, id need my staff to confirm-"

"Then take a report back, have them confirm it."

He shook his head. "Hospital tox screens aren't specific enough."

"Why are you so reluctant? Afraid to hear the truth? That it could be Iveruit's drug killing people."

Slowly he rose to his feet. His height putting her at a disadvantage. Now she was looking up at him, confronting the chilly silence of his eyes.

Up until now, she hadn't felt the least bit intimidated by Noah Puckerman, not by his wealth or his power or his looks. But his anger – this was something different. This she couldn't brush off, couldn't turn her back on. Their gazes held and all at once something flared inside of her, so unexpected she was stunned by its intensity. Suddenly she was unable, unwilling, to take note of anything else in the room.

It was a women's voice, calling Puck's name that finally broke the spell.

"Puck! What on earth did you do to yourself?"

Rachel turned and saw Quinn, still in full evening dress. She'd just come through the ER doors and now was staring at Puck in dismay.

"Look at your clothes! And your face what happened?" she said stroking his cheek.

He winced. "We got into some trouble," he said. "What are you doing here Quinn?"

"I heard Vernon say he was coming to get you, so I told him I'd do it instead."

"I'll have to talk to him about this."

"No I insisted, I thought you'd be glad to have me rescue you," she smiled. "Aren't you glad?"

"You shouldn't be down here," he said. "Not at this time of night it's not safe."

"Oh well," said Quinn glancing round at all the people in the ER. "I can't imagine what you're doing in this part of town." She looked at Rachel's equally bruised face. "Looks like you both got into trouble."

"Dr. Berry needs a ride home too; her car got stolen and were both penniless."

There was a brief silence. "Why not, the more the merrier, come on let's get out of here before my car gets stolen."

"Wait, there's something we need to do first," said Rachel.

"What's that?" said Quinn.

"We need to go upstairs. There is a patient we need to see in the ICU."

Rachel gave him a nod of approval he was finally ready to hear the truth.

"I'll come with you; you wouldn't leave me by myself, would you?"

With Puck and Quinn in tow, Rachel retraced her steps up to the ICU.

The ICU was a hive of activity, nurses scurrying around, monitors beeping; two dozen hearts tracings zigzagged across a bank of oscilloscopes'.

The ward clerk glanced up in surprise.

"Are you visiting someone?"

"I'm Dr. Berry, MEs office" said Rachel. "I was here earlier with Dr. Karofsky, looking over Simon Atkins chart. Would you know if his tox screen came back?"

"I just came on duty. Let me check the reports." He turned and rifled through a box of newly delivered slips. "There's no tox screen for an Atkins."

"How is he doing?"

"You'll have to talk to one of the nurses, which bed was he in?"

"Bed thirteen."

"Thirteen?" The clerk looked over the cardex file and frowned. "There is no one in bed thirteen."

"That's his bed number, I'm sure of it." She looked to where his bed was, it was empty.

A nurse walked past the desk, carrying charts. "Excuse me Lori? The was a mister Atkins in bed thirteen. Do you know if he's been moved?"

Lori stopped and turned to the visitors. "Are you friends are relatives."

"Neither, I'm from the MEs office." Said Rachel.

"Oh, then I guess its okay to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Mr Atkins died. Two hours ago."

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><p><em>This is my favorite chapter.<em>  
><em>Hope you enjoy. <em>  
><em>Please Review. :)<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, sorry for such a long wait i have had so much going on, so i apoligise.**

**thanks for all the reviews. please continue to review, even though im awful at updating.**

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><p><span>Chapter 6.<span>

Jane Doe. Alison Vargas. Simon Atkins. They were all dead.

How many more would die?

Rachel sat in the back of Quinn's Mercedes and stared out at the midnight scenery of South Lexington. She's forgotten about her bruises, her empty stomach, or her throbbing neck. She was numb now, shaken by the new addition to the death toll. Three in two days. It was a lethal drug. It sucked the life out of its victims. She only hoped Artie had stressed the urgency in his press conference. Had there been a press conference? She'd missed the evening news ...

Exhausted, she sank back into the luxury of the leather interior. She'd never been in such a clean car. She'd never been in the back seat of a Mercedes, either. This she could learn to like. She could also learn to like the smooth ride, the sense of safety. Maybe there was something to say about money.

Quinn stopped at a red light. Stroking Puck's head with her perfectly manicured fingers. "You poor thing! Look at those bruises. Ill have to get you all cleaned up when we get home."

"I'm fine, Quinn." Sighed Puck.

"What did they take?"

"Just my wallet."

"Oh, and you got hurt trying to fight them off."

"Actually I got hurt trying to get away."

"Don't say that Puck, I know perfectly well you're not a coward."

_So do I_, Thought Rachel. "Keep your illusions and I'll try not to shatter them."

The red light changed and Quinn turned up the freeway ramp. "We missed you at dinner, you know." She said.

Puck stared out the window. "Hope you left some wine in my cellar."

"Enough for a nightcap."

"I'm really tired. I think I'll probably go straight to sleep."

There was a silence. "Oh," said Quinn. "Well, there's still tomorrow night. You are up for that right?"

"What's tomorrow night?"

"The mayor's dinner. Oh Puck how could you forget?"

"I just did."

Quinn gave a lovely laugh. "You'll be a hit. All those lovely bruises. Like some macho badge of honour."

"More like a badge of stupidity." Said Puck.

"What is the matter with you?"

"Get off here," said Puck. "Bellemeade exit."

"Why would I get off here?"

"It's where I live." Said Rachel. Had Quinn forgot she was there?

"Oh of course, Bellemeade that's a nice neighbourhood."

"It's close to town." Said Rachel, with a tone that could be taken in many different ways.

After a few blocks and a few turns they pulled up to Rachel's house. She was proud of that house. It had three bedrooms, a charming front porch and a garden that wasn't loaded with chemicals. It wasn't Surry Heights, but she was happy here. So why did she feel the need to apologise?

Noah got out and opened her door. To her surprise, he also offered his hand. She stepped out onto the sidewalk beside him. The streetlamp spilled light across his dark hair.

"Can you get into the house?" he asked.

"I have an extra key under the flower pot."

"You don't have a car."

"I'll just catch the bus in the morning, no big deal."

"That's crazy. Ill arranges something for you."

"It's really okay, Noah. I've managed without a car before, its fine."

"Still, I feel like this is my fault. You got into this mess because I dragged you out there. So please let me take care of this. A taxi to work at least."

She looked at him and sensed how very much he wanted her to accept his help. "Okay, but only for a few days. Till I come up with a new car."

She walked up to the plant pot and pulled out the spare key. Opening the door she turned around to see him still standing there watching her. Only once she'd entered the house and turned on the hallway light did he get back in the car. She looked out the front window and saw the Mercedes drive away.

_Back to Surry Heights_, she thought. _Back to his world._

And Quinn's.

She locked the front door and wearily climbed the stairs to bed.

After he sent Quinn home, Puck holed up in his study and nursed a much needed glass of brandy. His head ached, his eyes were bleary, and his ribs hurt like hell when he breathed. But he couldn't drag himself to bed yet.

He kept replaying that terrifying scene from tonight: Rachel Berry, down on her knees, her hair yanked back, her throat bared. And the switch blade, pressing against her flesh. He closed his eyes trying to erase the memory, but it was no use. At the instant he saw it he lost all fear for himself, had stopped caring what would happen to him. All he knew is that they were going to kill her and there was nothing he could do, not a damn thing.

He clutched the brandy glass and chugged it. _She came through it better than I did_, he thought.

But then Rachel Berry was something extraordinary. A true survivor who would land on her feet every time. Considering her roots, she had to be a survivor. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

Eventually he set down his brandy glass and hauled himself out of the chair. On the way out of the room he passed the photo of Beth. It sat on an end table, a quiet portrait of his smiling stepdaughter. Was Beth smiling these days?

He should have known, seen it coming.

He had no excuse, except he was overwhelmed with work and by single fatherhood. By a daughter who was so traumatized by her mother's death that she slipped into eternal sullen adolescence. He couldn't talk to her; after a while he'd given up trying and resorted to a father's tactic of last resort: asserting his authority. That hadn't worked either.

By the time he realized Beth was in trouble, it was too late. She was on a constant high – booze, pills, everything and anything.

Like Santana.

Maybe it was in their genes, some cruel twist in their DNA that preordained their addictions. Maybe it was simply they couldn't cope with life or stress.

Or was it him?

He turned away from the photograph and climbed the stairs. Once again alone to bed. It didn't have to be this way. It had been clear tonight that Quinn was ready and willing – and frustrated by his lack of interest. They'd known each other for years, had been seeing each other on a regular basis for months. Shouldn't he be making some kind of move?

But not tonight. When she drove him to his door, he took a real look at her. Sure, she was perfect of course – her hair, her dress, her smile – perfect in every way. And yet he felt no interest whatsoever in taking her to bed. He looks at Quinn and all he could see was Rachel Berry, her face bruised and battered like a prise fighters, grinning at him by the light of that Bellemeade streetlamp.

_Fucking fantastic_, he thought. _After all the years I finally admit the possibility of romance, and look who inspires it. Some medical examiner, from a rough part of town, who almost got me killed over a fucking mini cooper._

Not exactly a match made in heaven.

Rachel woke up with every muscle in her body aching. I took every bit of willpower just to get out of bed. She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. _Shit_. The evidence of last night's brawl: fifteen neat stitches across her neck, and bruises and scratches across her face. So it wasn't a nightmare.

She managed to wash her face, only causing mild pain, and swept her hair in to a pony tail. Forget the makeup, not enough could cover the bruises.

Downstairs, fuelled by a cup of coffee, she started the tasks at hand: cancelling her credit cards and her bank card, replacing her driving license. When those dickheads had grabbed her purse they made off with most of her financial identity. At least she still had her check book – which she left safely at home. She made one last call, begging the locksmith to come round and change her locks ASAP. Then she got up and poured herself another cup of coffee.

So when she heard footsteps on her porch, she was expecting the worst. Were those boys already trying out her house keys?

She rushed into the hall and pulled a baseball bat from the front closet, and stood poised by the front door ready to attack. Hearing the clinking of keys she pulled the bat further behind her ready to give a good swing, expecting the door to swing open any second.

Instead the mail slot squeaked open, and a set of car keys slid through and clattered onto the wood floor. _What the fuck?_

Whoever had dropped them was now walking away. Open the door she saw Noah Puckerman's butler climbing into a car driven by another man.

"Hey!" Rachel yelled waving the keys. "What the hell is this?"

The butler waved back and called. "Compliments of Mr Puckerman."

Confused, Rachel watched them drive away. Then her gaze shifted to the driveway.

A silver G wagon Mercedes was parked in the driveway. She looked at the car keys in her hand. Walking to the car, she circled it inspecting it. It was absolutely beautiful. _Regis Luxury Rentals_ said the licence plate. Looking through the window – leather seats. She opened the door and climbed in just sitting there admiring for a moment. There was a note taped to the dashboard, addressed to Dr. Berry. She unfolded the slip of paper and read it.

_Hope this is alright, all I could do on short notice.  
>N.P.<em>

She sat back. "Hm. I guess I could manage." She grinned.

At work she stopped grinning.

Artie Abram's had told her the major had no interest in any press conference.

"You can't be serious, oh crap, your serious." Said Rachel pacing the office.

Artie looked genuinely apologetic. "I explained the situation to the major and his staff. I told him there had been two connected deaths-"

"Three, Artie. Simon Atkins is dead. I've had it classified as an ME case."

"Okay then, three. I've told them there is a trend and it wasn't good. But they feel like a press conference is premature."

"At what point does this crisis become 'mature'?"

Artie shook his head. "It's not in my power to go around them. The line of authority is clear. When it comes to a press release, the major has the final say."

"Maybe you weren't persuasive enough."

"Maybe we should ride this out a bit. See what develops."

"Wait for more bodies? Seriously?" she put her hands on Arties desk. "Artie we are going to come out looking freaking incompetent. When all hell breaks loose, do you really think the major will take the blame? We will. You will."

Artie looked more than unhappy.

"Let me talk to them," said Rachel. "I'll bring in Dr. Dietz from Hancock General as my authority. This news has to get out and soon. Before South Lexington turns, into a fucking graveyard."

For a moment Artie sat there silent and emotionless. Then he nodded. "Alright you take care of it. But don't be surprised if they shoot you down.

"Thanks Artie."

Back in her office, the first call she made was to the Majors secretary. She learned that 'His Honour' had a hole in his appointment book at one o' clock and she might be able to slip in then, but she wasn't guaranteeing anything.

The second call Rachel made was to Hancock General. Unfortunately, Dr David Karofsky wasn't on duty.

"Well, is there anyway I can contact him?" asked Rachel. "This is urgent I've booked us into the mayor's office at one o' clock."

"I'm afraid that is impossible." Said the ER clerk.

"Why?"

"Dr Karofsky has left town. He resigned from the staff effective yesterday evening."

During his years in office, Mayor Figgins had presided over the worst economic slide in Albion's history. To be fair, it wasn't entirely his fault – across the country people were reeling from the recession. But with three major plant closings, a host of business bankruptcies and an inner city rotting at its core, Albion had suffered worse than most, so it had struck Rachel as more than a little ironic that the bicentennial poster displayed behind the receptionists desk showed a poster of a slick couple in evening dress, dancing before a view of the night skyline.

_Albion – a city for all reasons  
>Mr. Figgins, Mayor.<em>

It was, of course, just your typical election year hype. How convenient for his honor that the celebration just happened to coincide with his kickoff for his re-election campaign. She approached the receptionist. 'I'm Dr. Berry, ME's office. Is there any chance I could get into see Mayor Figgins?'

'I'll check' the receptionist pressed the intercom. 'Mayor Figgins? There is a doctor from the ME's office here. Are you free?'

'Splendid, we just finished lunch. Send him right on in.' Rachel heard from the speaker.

_Him? He must think I'm Artie, _She thought. As she opened the door, masculine laughter spilled out. Just inside the office, she halted.

The mayor was behind his desk, puffing on a cigar. In a chair nearby sat the acting district attorney. Rachel's ex-husband.

'Hello Jesse,' Rachel said stiffly. 'Mayor Figgins.'

Each man looked at each other in surprise. 'It's you,' Jesse said, not sure what to say. She noticed his dramatic clothing change, since their divorce. He had a new suit, Italian shoes, and a shirt that looked 100% linen.

'Is this official business?' asked Figgins looking bewildered.

'Yeah,' Said Rachel. 'Artie Abram's spoke to you yesterday. About that press conference.'

'What? Oh.' Figgins waved his hand in dismissal. 'You mean about the junkies. Yeah, we talked about it.'

'It's time to go to the press sir,' Said Rachel. 'We have had three deaths.'

'I thought it was two?'

'Another OD died last night. At Hancock General.'

'Have you confirmed it's the same drug?'

'Let's just say my suspicions are running high.'

'Ah ha.' Figgins lounged back in his large chair, suddenly at ease. 'So you don't have a conformation.'

'Toxicology screens take time. Especially when the drugs an unknown. By the time we get a positive ID we could have a full blown crisis in South Lexington.'

Jesse chuckled. 'South Lexington _is_ a crisis.'

Rachel ignored him. 'All I'm asking for is a statement to the press. Call in the local news stations. Tell them we got some bad stuff on the streets. Junkies are dying.'

The Mayor glanced at Jesse with an amused look. 'Some would say that is progress.'

'Sir,' said Rachel, trying to stay calm, 'You have to let people know.'

'Now therein lies our problem,' said Mayor Figgins, shifting forward in his seat, elbows on his desk, resting his chin in his fists. 'Dr. Berry, in case you aren't aware of it, we have a bicentennial celebration coming up. Parade, marching bands, the whole nine yards. We have the heads of some mayor corporations coming into town to join the fun. And to look us over, see if they like us. We're talking jobs they could bring to Albion. But they won't bring a thing to town if they start seeing headlines like, Junkie epidemic or Grim reaper stalks city. They'll just move there companies to Boston or Providence instead.'

'So what do you suggest, sweep this all under the rug?'

'Not exactly. We just ... wait awhile.'

'How long?'

'Until you've got more information. Next week, say.'

'A lot of people can die in a week.'

'Lighten up Rach,' said Jesse. 'These aren't the pillars of society were talking about. These are the same folks who mug old ladies and hold up gas stations. The same folks I'm already stick in jail.' He paused. 'The same people who stole your car.

'How did you hear about that?' Rachel snapped.

Jesse smirked. 'We hear a lot of things in the office. Likes who's been filling stolen car reports.'

'Forget the car. I want to know when we can see some action on this.'

'I think I answered that question, Dr Berry.' Said Mayor Figgins.

'You are making a mistake.'

'Christ,' Figgins said with a sigh. 'You can't even prove to me these deaths are related. Why go and get the whole town panicked about it?'

Jesse added, 'They are only junkies.'

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. 'You know what, Jesse?' she said chuckling. 'It's a continuing wonder to me.'

'What is?'

'What the hell I ever saw in you.' She turned on her heal and stormed out of the room.

Jesse followed her through the receptionist's office and into the hallway. 'Rach, wait up.'

'I'm just going back to work.'

'Just love those stiffs, huh?'

'Compared to the present company? Don't ask.' She got in the elevator and he slipped in beside her.

'Looks like life's been rough since you left me,' he said glancing at her bruised face with a smirk.

'Not nearly as rough as it was with you. And you left me remember?'

'You know you really blew it in there with Figgins. Next time you should try a little honey, not so much vinegar. It would be better for you career.'

'I see your career doesn't need any help,' she said glancing at his tailored suit.

He grinned. 'You heard that Figgins endorsed me? The campaign coffers are already loaded.'

'Be careful whose coattails you grab onto. Figgins days are numbered.'

They stepped out of the elevator and left the building.

'It's just a stepping stone,' he said. 'Today, DA. Tomorrow – who knows? Are you coming to the campaign benefit? I could use you there. Show some support from the ME's office.'

'I've got better ways to spend my money.'

He reached in to his pocket and pulled out an invitation. 'Here.' He dropped it in her purse. 'My compliments. Will you vote for me at least?'

She laughed. 'What do you think?'

'I think your gonna need a friend in high places. Especially with the rut your career seems to be-' he broke off and stared as Rachel unlocked the door to the Mercedes. 'This is your car?' he asked.

'Nice isn't she,' Rachel climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. She smiled sweetly through the window. 'Those of us in career ruts have to find some way to compensate.' The look on his face was enough to keep her grinning for a few blocks, and then the anger set in. Anger at Jesse, for being an arrogant fuckwit. Anger at Figgins and Artie. And at herself for admitting defeat. She could go around them all. Ignore the lines of authority and go to the press her self ...

And get herself promptly fired.

She gripped the steering wheel, silently railing at herself, at election year politics, at a system that made you park your conscience if you wanted to stay unemployed. She just didn't have the evidence to for the issue – not yet. What she needed was a pair of matching tox screens – just one pair, enough to link two of the deaths. Enough to go to the press and say 'we have a trend here.'

The minute she got back into her office, she called the state lab. 'This is Dr. Berry, Albion assistant ME. Do you have the results yet on a Jane Doe number 373-4-3-A?'

'I'll check,' said the technician.

A moment later the tech came back on the line. 'I have a blood, urine, and vitreous on Jane Doe number 372-3-27-B'

'That's a different number.'

'It was ordered by a Dr. Schuster, Albion ME. Is this the one you want?'

'No that's wrong. I want 373-4-3-A.'

'I have no record of such request.'

'I sent it in April 3rd. My Names Dr. Berry.'

'My log doesn't show any Jane Doe specimens from Albion. Or anything from you, Dr. Berry.'

Rachel tugged on her hair in frustration. 'Look, I know I defiantly sent it in. It was even marked Expedite.'

'It's not in the log or my computer.'

'I can't believe this! Out of all the lab results you had to lose this one? I need those results.'

'We can't run a test without specimens.' Said the rather annoyed tech.

'Okay.' Rachel sighed. 'Then give me the results from the other case. Regina Vargas. I sent that one in April 4th. You do have that one?'

'It was logged in. Let me check ...' there was a brief silence, followed by the sounds of clicking fingers in a keyboard. Then the tech said 'It was shipped to an outside lab.'

'Why?'

'It says here, "Nonspecific opioids detected. Unable to identify using available techniques. Specimen referred to independent lab for further tests." That's all.'

'So, I will get an ID? Eventually?'

'Eventually.'

'Thank you.' Rachel hung up. Then it was something new. Something the state lab couldn't identify. But it was only case. To prove trend, she needed a second case, at the very least.

She rose and pulled on her lab coat. Then she walked down the hall to the morgue. One of the attendants was tidying up the room. He glanced at her.

'Hey, Doc,' he said. 'What's up?'

'James, you remember those specimens I sent off on Monday? For Jane Doe? I put them in the out-box. Did you see the courier pick them up?'

'Don't tell me they went and lost something again?'

'They say they never got it.'

James rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, I heard them give Doc Schue the same story. So what you want me to do? Run another set over?'

'If you're willing,' she glanced at her watch. 'It's four, take an hour of overtime. That'll cover the drive. And make sure they log it in.'

'Sure thing.'

Now there will be another wait for those results. Luckily they'd retained several tubes of Jane Does blood and urine, for this situation. While it was rare for specimens to be lost, it did happen.

Her head was starting to ache again, a reminder of last night. She should go home early and OD on the opiate of the masses – TV. But shed accumulated too much paperwork.

Back at her desk she shuffled through her in-box. There were dictations to sign, Lap slips, pathology journals, reports from ballistics. She had just emptied and dumped another stack on her desk.

'Forget this,' Rachel muttered. 'I'm going home.'

The she saw it. The envelope on the stack. Dr Berry scrawled across the top. No address, no stamp; someone must have dropped it off at the front desk. She opened the envelope and red the note.

Simon Atkins results back, MIT Lab. Identified as a new generation narcotic, Levo-N-cyclobutymethyl-6, 10 beta-dihydroxy class. Not FDA approved for use in humans. MIT says research patient patent application made six months ago. Trade name: Zestron-L. Applicant: Iveruit Corporation.  
>Sorry I'm cutting out on you, but I don't need the headache. Good Luck Dr Berry. You'll need it,<br>Dave Karofsky.

The Iveruit Corporation. She stared at the name stunned. She grabbed the phone and called the state lab once again.

'About that tox screen, on Regina Vargas,' she said to the technician. 'There's a specific drug I want you to test it for. It's called Zestron-L.'

'You'll have to talk directly to the outside lab. They are handling it now.'

'Okay ill call them, where did you send it to?'

'Iveruit Laboratories, in Albion. Do you want the number?'

Rachel didn't answer; she kept staring at that note from Karofsky, at the name: Iveruit. Pharmaceuticals. Diagnostics lab. How many tentacles did the corporation have?

'Dr. Berry?' asked the tech. 'do you want the number?'

'No,' said Rachel softly and hung up.

It took her a few minutes to gain up the courage to make the next phone call. It had to be done; Noah Puckerman had to be confronted.

The phone rang once, twice. A male voice answered. 'Puckerman residence. Kurt speaking'

'This is Dr. Berry.'

'Ah, Miss Berry. I hope the new automobile is working fabulously.'

'It's great, thanks. Is Mr Puckerman in?'

'I'm afraid he just left for evening. The mayor's benefit, you know. Shall I leave him a message?'

And what message could she leave? She thought. _That I know the truth? It's you company killing people? _

'Dr. Berry?' asked Kurt when she didn't reply. She folded Karofsky's note and put it in her purse.

'No message, Kurt. Thanks,' she said. 'I'll catch him at the benefit.'

Then she hung up and walked out of the office.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the book this story is strongly based off, or any of the characters from Glee.**

**Sorry for waiting so lonnnnngggg to update. i know its been like a year. But I've had so much going on this year. i also have a new story in mind so my goal is to get this story completed and a new story up and near finished by the end of the summer. Although i have school for a few more weeks, so its not gonna be frequent until school is over. This chapter has some Puckleberry goodness so i hope you enjoy. Please Review.**

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><p><span>Chapter 7<span>

It took Rachel an hour and a half to drive home, change her clothes, and fight her way through midtown traffic. By this time a major traffic jam had built up along Dorchester Avenue, leading up to the Four Seasons Hotel. With all of the red lights it gave her time to shake her hair loose and check her make up, in the visor mirror. Even with powder her bruises were still visible, but at least she found a black bead choker to cover up the stitches on her neck. It actually looked attractive with her dress. A long silk red dress, which cinched in the waist had spaghetti straps and revealed a large portion of her back. Unfortunately for Rachel the whole look required high heels; before the night would be over, her feet would be killing her.

The ballroom at the Four Seasons was packed. There was probably enough furs and jewels in the room to fund the city budget for a year. A buffet table held platter of shrimp and smoked salmon, pastries and caviar, all of it served on real china, of course. Rachel handed her invitation to the official at the door and pushed her way through the room. She was reminded why she hated going to these types of party's, especially on her own. Sipping at the requisite glass of white wine, she wandered through the crowd and searched for a familiar face. Mostly she saw a lot of tuxedos, a lot of mink, a lot of orthodontically perfect teeth bared in perfect smiles.

She heard her name called. Turning, she saw her ex-husband. 'And I though you weren't going to show,' he said grinning as he approached.

'I never said I wouldn't show, I can't just pass up a free invite.'

'Hey, I want to get a photo taken. You and Major Figgins,' he glanced around and spotted Figgins in a corner surrounded by admirers. 'There he is come on.'

'I don't do photo ops.'

'Just this time.'

'Jesus Jesse, I've told you I'm not here to endorse him. I'm here for free drinks and-' she stopped, her gaze suddenly focusing across the room, on a distinctive Mohawk. Noah Puckerman didn't see her; he was facing sideways engaged in a conversation with another man. Next to Noah stood Quinn, her blond hair pulled into a delicate bun. _The perfect couple_, Rachel thought. Stunning in their evening dress and tuxedo.

Puck must have sensed he was being watched. He glanced her way and froze when he saw her. To Rachel's surprise, he abruptly stopped his conversation and made his way over to her. She caught a glimpse of Quinn's frown, but all she could focus on was him.

He was smiling at her, the relaxed greeting of an old friend. The bruise on his cheek stood out. 'Rachel, I didn't know you were coming.' he said, he reached out to her, and her hand felt in the warmth of his grip.

'I didn't know I was coming,' she said.

The sound of a throat being cleared caught he attention. She glanced sideways at Jesse. 'I guess I should introduce you two,' she said sighing. 'Jesse, this Noah Puckerman. Noah, this is Jesse St James. Our acting DA.'

'St James?' said Noah as the two man shook hands.

'I'm her Ex-husband,' said Jesse with a devilish grin. 'We're still very close.'

'Fuck off Jesse,'' said Rachel.

'So your both campaigning for Figgins?' asked Noah.

'Jesse is, I'm not.' said Rachel.

Jesse laughed. 'And I'm trying to change her mind.'

'I came for the free alcohol,' said Rachel. She took a sip of wine, then she looked directly at Puck, a cool, hard gaze that no one could mistake for a flirtatious. 'And to see you.'

'Well,' said Jesse. 'She always did favor the direct approach.'

'I'd like to say I'm flattered,' said Puck, frowning as he studied her face. 'But I have a feeling this isn't a social chat we are about to have.'

'Its not,' said Rachel. 'Its about Simon Atkins.'

'Oh,' suddenly seeming stiff and guarded – as well as he should be. 'I think we should talk in private, If you'll excuse us St James.' he said placing his hand on Rachel's shoulder.

'Puck!' called Quinn, moving swiftly towards them. 'I want you to meet someone, Oh Dr Berry, Have you recovered from last night?'

Rachel nodded. 'Getting there,'

'Your very tough. I would have been terrified, having my life threatened like that.'

'Of course I was terrified.' admitted Rachel.

'And then having your car stolen? Your lucky it was just a mini-'

'Will you excuse us?' Said Puck, pushing Rachel towards the exit. 'I'll join you later Quinn.'

'How much later?'

'Just later,' with a firm grip on Rachel's upper arm, he pushed Rachel through the crowd and into the lobby, where it was just as crowded. 'lets go outside, at least we can escape this madhouse.'

They found a spot near the hotel fountain, it's trickling water aglow in a rainbow of colored lights. The sounds of the party could still be heard.

He turned to face her. 'whats going on?' he asked.

'I could ask you the same question'

'What's got your panties in a bunch.'

'Zestron-L' she said looking him dead in the eye. 'you have heard of it, haven't you?'

She could see at once that he knew what she was talking about. She had seen the shock in his eyes when she mentioned Zestron-L, but then his expression quickly changed into unreadable. So he knew. All this time he knew which drug was killing innocents.

'let me refresh your memory, in case you've forgotten,' she continued. 'Zestron-L is a long acting narcotic, new generation, of the class levo-N-cyclobutl-'

'I know what it is.'

'Then you also know Inveruit holds the patent'

'Yes.'

'So then you knew the drug was out on the streets?'

'It's not possible. We are still in the research stage, it hasn't even gone through human trials yet!'

'Well, unfortunately for you human trials have started in South Lexington. And the outcome isn't too encouraging. Terrible side effects. Mainly death.'

'Fuck sake it hasn't even been released yet!'

'Simon Atkins had it.'

'how do you know?'

'Seeing as the hospital couldn't ID it, they sent a blood sample to a university lab. A lucky break, they were able to identify it.'

'There are two other victims-'

'Yes and funny thing happened to their blood samples. Jane Does went missing in transit. And Alison Vargas, I wont trust any results I get back on her. In fact I don't even expect to get hers back.'

'Aren't you being paranoid?'

'Trust me I'm not. I've never had much imagination. Its one of my faults.'

He moved closer to her, so threateningly close she had to fight the impulse to retreat a step. 'Whatever your faults, Berry, a lack of imagination isn't one of them.'

'Let me lay out the facts, disturbing but true. First Jane Doe's specimens were lost. I know I labeled them properly and I filled out all the right forms, and put them in the correct box.'

'Well, the carrier could have lost them. Or it could have been stolen from the vehicle. There are tons of reasons why.'

'Then there's the matter of Alison Vargas. Her specimens did make it to a state lab but they cant identify the drug. So they sent it to an outside lab for further testing, guess which lab they sent it to?' she looked him in the eye. 'Inveruit.'

He didn't even flinch. He calmly said, 'We constantly handle requests from the state. We're only 30 miles away and we are better equipped.'

'Third, there's the matter of Dr. David Karofsky, Simon Atkins doctor. He identify s the drug as Zestron-L. Then he resigns from Hancock General and then skips town only leaving me a note? I think he was forced out of the hospital. Because your company just happens to be a major donor to the hospital.'

'Inveruit has nothing to with Karofsky resignation. He was already on his way out.'

'And how would you know that?'

'Because I'm on the hospital board. Three malpractice suits were more then we'd tolerate. Karofsky was a disaster. God even his fucking license was in jeopardy.'

Rachel paused. That would explain why Karofsky's reluctance to face the press. He didn't need the publicity.

'But Zestron-L is your drug. And someone is trying to keep its identity form the ME. Someone's protect Inveruit.'

Puck began paving back and forth by the fountain. 'this is stupid,' he grumbled. 'I don't see how that ID could be right.'

'You cant argue with a lab result'

He stopped pacing and looked at her, 'No your right, I cant.'

Staring into his gaze made her want to believe there was no lies between them. _I must be falling for his charm, _she thought. _A tuxedo, a man too gorgeous for words. What is wrong with me. _

'Come with me,' he said, holding out his hand.

She didn't move, feeling shaken by the sudden longing to take his hand, to feel her whole body swallowed in his warmth. This was what she'd fought against, from the first time they'd met, this quickening of desire.

He was still holding out his hand, still trapping her gaze. 'C'mon Rachel.' he said.

'Where?'

'To Inveruit. The lab. Tonight, i'm going to root out the answers and I want you to be with me as a witness.'

She shook her head. 'I'm not so sure that you'll like the answers.'

'You may be right.' he said. 'But it's clear to me your not going to give up until you have answers. So I might as well work with you, not against you.'

she looked at him for a moment studying his handsome features on his face. Finally she said 'Okay, I'll go with you.'

'Okay first let me sort things out with Quinn, she is going to be pissed.'

Back in the ballroom, she watched Noah approach Quinn, saw the hurried excuses and the apologetic head shaking. Quinn glanced in Rachel's direction with a poorly disguised look of disgust.

Rachel spotted Jesse flirting with some big chested blond, all done up with diamonds and a face which showed the tell tale signs of someone addicted to plastic surgery. Grinning she sidled up to him. 'Jesse.' she said.

He glanced at her before excusing himself away from the blonde, who glared at her before strutting off swaying her hips in a way she must have thought was seductive. Turing back to her, 'did the direct approach work?' he said.

'Puckerman's taking me to his lab tonight'

'Lucky you,' he winked jokingly grabbing some of the posh food that lay on the buffet table.

'I want you to let Chang and Rutherford know. Just in case.'

'In case what?'

Instantly she fell silent as Noah came towards her.

'Just keep it in mind.' she muttered to Jesse. Then forcing a fake smile on her face, she followed Puck out the door.

They went into the hotels garage. 'We are going to have to take your car,' he said. 'Quinn's going home in mine.'

'She didn't look to happy about it.'

'She hasn't got much of a choice.'

Rachel shook her head. 'Are you always so thoughtful with your lady friends.'

'Quinn,' he sighed. 'Is a very stunning girl with a cozy inheritance. And a lot of suitors, she hardly needs me to keep her bed warm.'

'Do you?'

'Do you keep Jesse St James warm?'

'That's non of your business.'

He cocked his head. 'Ditto'

They got in to her rented Mercedes. The smell of the leather seats mixed with the scent of his aftershave. It left her feeling a little light headed. Rachel started the car and swung into the late night traffic.

'How do you like the car?'

'Its okay.'

'Okay?' he said obviously wanting her to elaborate.

'Yeah, its okay.'

He looked out the window scanning the traffic on the other side of the road. 'Next time, ill have to try and really impress you.'

Rachel put her foot down on the gas pedal.

'A Roles Royce, a Bentley' he mused. 'How does that sound,'

'Hm, we'll see.'

'There,' he said. 'Take the next turn off. Its eight miles north.'

The road took them out of midtown Albion, into a district of industrial parks and corporate head quarters. The Inveruit complex was one of the few that appeared to house a thriving corporation. Even at 8'o clock at night, most of the windows were still lit, and a large majority of cars filled the parking lot. They drove past the security booth and pulled into the stall marked Puckerman.

'Your people work late.' said Rachel glancing at the parked cars.

'The evening shift.' he said, shoving his hands in his dress pants. 'We run a twenty-four hour diagnostics lab.'

They walked to the front door, where Noah pressed a few numbers on a wall keypad and the lock snapped open. Inside he led her down a brightly lit hallway. No smudged walls, no crappy flickering fluorescent lights; only the best for corporate America.

'Where are we going?' she asked.

'Diagnostics. I'm going to prove to you that were not engaged in a cover up.'

'And just how are you going to do that?'

'I'm going to personally hand over Alison Vargas's toxicology screen.'

The diagnostics chamber was a vast chamber of space age equipment, manned by half a dozen technicians. The evening supervisor, an elderly woman in a lab coat, came to great them.

'Don't worry, Vera,' said Noah. 'This isn't a surprise inspection.'

'Thank god,' said Vera chuckling. 'We just hid the beer keg and the dancing girls. So what can I do for you Puck?'

'This is Dr. Berry, ME's office. She wants to check on a tox screen sent here from state.'

'Whats the name dear?'

'Alison Vargas,' said Rachel.

Vera sat down at a computer and typed in the name. 'Here it is. Logged in this afternoon. Its not checked priority, so we haven't run it yet.'

'Can you run it now.' asked Puck.

'Its gonna take some time.'

Noah glanced at Rachel. She nodded. 'We'll wait.' he said. Vera nodded and went off to another technician obviously arranging the screening.

'We'll be in my office,' shouted Noah. Pushing Rachel through the glass doors. By the time they reached Pucks office which was up two flights of stairs and down a ridiculously long corridor, Rachel's feet were numb. The minute she hobbled through the office door, she pulled off her shoes and let her feet sink into the velvety carpet. Slowly she glanced around the room, impressed by her surroundings. It wasn't just an office; more like a second home, with a couch and chairs, book shelves and a small refrigerator. The walls were lined with photos of what seemed to be family and accomplishments.

'I was wondering how long you'd last in them shoes'' said Noah before loosening his tie and grabbing a bottle of water out the mini fridge offering Rachel one as well.

'I confess i'm a socks and sneaker type.' Rachel said grabbing the bottle of water before collapsing on the couch.

'What a shame you looked good in heels.'

'My feet would beg to differ.' groaning she leaned down and began to rub her feet.

Noah smirked at her before sitting on the coach next to her, before grabbing her feet and placing them in his lap.

'Allow me.'

'Allow you to what?' said Rachel turning so she was sat sideways on the coach leg spread out in front if her.

'Make up for the long walk down that hallway.'

laughing she pulled her feet from his lap and stood up. 'It wont work Puckerman and foot rub isn't going to soften my brain.'

he gave a sigh of disappointment, before leaning back into the coach and rest his arm across the back. 'She doesn't trust me.'

'Don't take it personally. When it comes to men i'm just an old skeptic.'

'Ah, deep rooted fears. An unreliable father?'

'I didn't have a father.' said Rachel examining each picture that was perfectly position on the wall of his office.

'So what happened to you father?' he asked.

'I wouldn't know, I don't even know his last name.' Rachel said turning to look at him.

Noah's eyebrow twitched in obvious surprise. That was his only reaction.

'I know he had brown hair, brown eyes,' said Rachel. 'I know he drove a nice car. And he had money, which was what my mother desperately needed at the time. So...' she grinned.'Here I am brown eyes and all.'

she expected to see shock, perhaps even pity in his gaze, but there was neither.

'So you see,' she continued. 'I'm not exactly manner born. Though my mother used to claim she had noble Italian blood. But then Mama did say a lot of crazy stuff towards end.'

'then shes...' trailed off Noah.

'Dead. Seven Years.'

He titled his head up. His eyes full of questions.

'Mama would say these really bizarre things,' explained Rachel. 'and she would complain of headaches every morning. I was in my last year of medical school. I was the one who diagnosed the brain tumor.'

Noah shook his head. 'That must of sucked.'

Rachel gave a sad smile. 'It wasn't the diagnosis that sucked. It was the part afterwords. Waiting for the end. I spent a lot of my time in Hancock General. Learned to hate the place. Discovered I couldn't stand to be around sick people.' she shook her head and laughed. 'Imagine that.'

'So you chose the morgue?'

'Its quiet. Its contained.'

'A hiding place.'

Anger darted through her but she contained it. After all what he said was true. The morgue was a hiding place, from all those painful emotions one found in a hospital ward. She turned her attention back to the photos. 'It suits me.' glancing round the room she caught sight of the mini fridge. 'You would happen to have anything edible in there, do you?'

He rose from the coach, and walked to the fridge. 'yeah I have some sandwiches for those impromptu meetings.' he reached in and pulled out two luncheon plates. 'Lets see Roast Beef or … Roast Beef. What a selection.' he pushed the plate into her hand. 'Afraid its not quite Majors benefit standard.'

'That's alright its not like I paid for my ticket anyways.'

he grinned. 'Neither did I.'

'Oh?'

'It was Quinn's ticket. Shes a big fan of major Figgins.'

'I cant imagine why.' said Rachel unwrapping her sandwich and sitting down on the coach tucking her feet beneath her.

Noah sat down next to her. Not to close, she noticed with a mingling of relief and disappointment.

'To be honest,' he admitted. 'i'm not a fan either, but Quinn needed a date.

'And you didn't have any better offers for the evening.'

'No,' he said taking a bite from his sandwich. 'not until you came along.'

Rachel put the plate on the coffee table in front of them and slowly wiped her fingers on the napkin. 'You can flatter me all you want,' she said. 'its not going to change things. I still have a job to do. Questions to be answered.'

'And suspects to be suspicious of.'

'Yes.'

'It doesn't bother me, being a suspect. Because i'm not guilty of anything. Neither is my company.'

'Still the name Inveruit keeps popping up in all kinds of places.'

'What do you want me to say? Confess that i'm manufacturing some secret drug in the basement and selling it on the streets for a profit? Or maybe confess that i'm part of a scheme to help the government solve Albions crime problem by killing off junkies. The ultimate drug rehab. That's why I was at the majors benefit. Because Figgins is in on it two.' he leaned forward and sighed. 'Come on Rachel, he said. 'Doesn't that sound the slightest bit ridiculous.'

He did make it sound ridiculous, but she refused to back down. 'i'm not discounting any possibilities.'

'Even the wild and crazy ones.'

'Is it so wild and crazy?'

he was moving closer to her, but she was too stubborn to give up an inch of territory on the coach.

She sat perfectly still, even as his hand reached up to touch her face, even as he caressed her cheek. Even as he leaned forward and pushed his lips on to hers.

'Don't.' she said as the sudden heat of desire filled her face and roared through her veins. She said again louder. 'Don't.' and pressed her hands against his chest.

He pulled away, his gaze searching her face. 'Whats wrong?'

'You. Me.' she pushed of the coach and rose to her feet. 'This wont work Noah.'

'I thought it was working just fine.'

'You thought. Did you care to ask me how I felt about it? Do you care?'

he gave a sheepish laugh. 'Shit, I guess I miss-judged that.'

'Why are you doing this?'

'I need an excuse for kissing a hot as fuck woman?'

her cheeks started to blush.'You're trying to distract me with flattery, arn't you?'

'If you knew me you wouldn't ask those questions.'

'That's just it. I don't know you. Except as a phone number in the hand of a corpse, and that doesn't exactly inspire confidence.'

The phone rang and he reluctantly broke eye contact and rose to pick up the receiver. 'Hello Vera,' he said. A pause then; 'We are on our way.' he turned to Rachel. The results are back.

They found Vera sitting in front of a computer. A readout rolling out of the printer. She tore off the page and handed it to Noah. 'There you go Mr Puckerman. A little booze. Traces of decongestant, and that.' She pointed to a band on the chromatography printout.

'Did you analyze this band?' asked Noah.

'I ran it …' she rambled off what she had found.

'Zestron-L' Said Rachel.

Vera looked at her in confusion. 'Zestron-L whats that?'

'Check with the research wing.' said Rachel.

'You mean our research wing?' Vera glanced at Puck. 'But that means...'

Noah nodded. 'The drug is one of ours.'

* * *

><p><strong>Dont forget to review. I will try and update as fast as possible.<strong>


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